The Maker's Seer
by TRIALHUNTER
Summary: Known throughout Thedas as the Maker's Seer, Lucas has found himself involved in both the Fifth Blight and the beginning of the Mage-Templar civil war. With his foreknowledge starting to draw to a definitive end, Lucas finds himself torn between protecting people he does not belong with, reconciling with Leliana and returning back home to a family he has not seen in over a decade.
1. Two For The Price Of One

**CHAPTER 1: TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE**

**Hello everyone. Firstly, I'd like to apologize to all my previous viewers who were hoping to get an update on other stories. Seeing as I only have a limited window of break (Around 3 weeks give or take) to take up writing again, I'm moving onto a new story in mind. So, for those expecting something else, I'm sorry that this may not fit your wishes. To those joining me from the Dragon Age fanfiction, I hope that this story will be one you'll all come back to. I'll do my best, count on that.**

**Anyway, the summary should handle the details, but just in case here's a basic outline. This story follows my OC, known as the Maker's Seer for his prophetic words. This takes place during the events of Inquisition, with some flashbacks detailing his travels with the Warden during the Fifth Blight and Hawke in his journeys in Kirkwall. The pairings will be displayed, the main one being Leliana and the OC. With that out of the way, onto the show...**

_The Maker's Seer_

_He is a mystery, the man many have taken to calling the Maker's Seer. Even after 11 years, few have managed to cull his secrets from him and believe me, many have tried to take his secrets for their own, either by coercion or force. The fact that none of them have succeeded is a little unnerving, considering the parties at play here. What little we do know has yet to be cross-checked and comes mainly from his associates. We know that he is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, having travelled with the Hero of Ferelden and his companions for that fortuitous year. I even had the privilege of meeting the man myself at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, though he was not what I expected from a man made out to be a pious figure. Records then put him in the midst of Kirkwall soon after for the next ten years, where he was involved in the start of the Mage-Templar civil war, the effects of which many of my fellow citizens in Denerim have seen ripple throughout their everyday lives. Many have correctly surmised that the Seer goes where trouble is bound to happen and with rumours that he is to be in attendance at the Conclave, I fear that we're on the brink of a new crisis. Perhaps I may be concerned over nothing. It can also be said that the Seer has aided in lessening the suffering of the world. Whether he be sent by the Maker or something else, I can agree only that he is here to help us._

_Excerpt from the journal of Brother Genitivi_

**One Hour After Conclave Explosion**

Smoke and dust billowed out into the once clear air, staining it with unimaginable filth that threatened to choke any normal person caught there for too long. Piles of rubble scattered to the four winds, all remnants from the destroyed Conclave. Nothing of the bodies remained, only a big gaping crater and a pillar of smoke stretching so high into the sky that it could be seen for miles. Amidst all that, one man was panting, swinging left and right with failing strength.

That man was the Maker's Seer, better known as Lucas to those who know him best. He pressed a calloused hand against a still standing stone pillar, catching his breath. Blood was trickling down his forehead, making his already ragged look pale as his skin turned a worrying shade of white with each minute that passed. Brown eyes glinting forward, he barely made anything out in the dust. With a grunt, he pressed onward, daring to look back only once for the demons chasing up behind him.

'_Why did I even come to the Conclave? What was I thinking? I knew what was going to happen and yet... Damn my hero sensibilities!_' He cursed silently, tumbling through the sheet of thick, white snow. From behind, a rage demon slithered forward in pursuit, its flame a beacon of danger looming in the background. With renewed purpose, Lucas tried to break into a brisk pace. He only got so far, feet tripping over a buried root and planting him face first into the snow. '_Shit, shit! Come on, get up!_' He groaned, using his hands to push himself back until he found himself knocking against an old tree, the bark rough and calloused against his clothes.

As the demon eyed its prey with a hunger, Lucas instinctively drew his dagger from his belt and took a stab at it, the blade plunging deep into the lava-esque body. The demon writhed in pain, slithering right and left in an effort to shake the annoying piece of metal lodged in it. Lucas saw his opportunity, hurriedly getting on his feet and dashing off into the snowy wasteland. Eventually, the iron blade started to melt into an amorphous mess, the now liquid dagger dripping harmlessly onto the snow as the demon pursued with renewed interest. Lucas ran and ran, dragging his feet. '_Closest place is Haven. Hopefully, the pack of cultists there have been cleared out by now..._' Lucas recalled his last excursion with a twinge of bitterness. He felt his boots find ground on an almost covered dirt path. Looking up, a sign pointing to his right was emblazoned with the word 'Haven' written on it with a crude style, almost as if they did it by using a dagger without any sense of finesse. '_Finally, some good bloody news._' The demon roared with anger in the near distance, rattling the leaves on the trees surrounding the path, sheets of snow shaking loose onto the ground. Needing no further persuasion, Lucas headed down the path as best he could.

It took him five minutes to walk down the path, with the demon thankfully having given up pursuit after he left the forest, no doubt to search for easier prey. Blood dropped from his head drop by drop, leaving a small yet distinct trail behind him. '_Great, now I'm bloody Hansel..._' He snarkily commented to himself. His hands gripped his stomach, trying to keep his body steady. His teeth started to chatter and his fingers felt numb to the touch, barely moving when he tried to make them do so. '_So I'm going to die of blood loss... or frostbite... How lovely..._' Lucas carried on, summoning the will to press on from out of nowhere. Soon enough, the faint outline of Haven nestled at the foot of the mountain loomed into view, amidst a background of the sky turning greener and greener with each passing hour. '_Bloody eyesore, that thing is... Why can't the end of the world at least look nice?_' He mused, his eyes almost transfixed to the Breach, legs merely walking like on autopilot.

Shadows started to fade into his line of sight, popping out from behind trees and fanning out to face him. One drew back on what appeared to be a bow, whilst two others brandished a sword / shield combo and two-handed axe respectively. As the shadows advanced, Lucas stepped back fearfully, his already pale shade turning ever so white with it. Having barely held on for the last hour with a splitting headache and light-headedness, Lucas eventually collapsed from sheer exhaustion, his body slumping backwards, hitting the snow with a soft thump, eyes slamming shut and hands clasped to his side like he was trying to protect himself. The last thing his senses gave him was the sound of the soldiers stepping forward, their boots trudging gently in the winter snow.

He remained out cold for the next two hours, barely responsive as the men and women of the newly formed Inquisition carried him back to the Chantry, laying him down on one of the makeshift beds they had set up in the equally makeshift infirmary. His body was covered in a warm blanket, one of the few they could spare, given current events. The smell of medicine wafted through the air, matched only by the smell of the dank and grit of the materials surrounding them. He was starting to stir, his eyes nothing but tiny slits of light filtering in, his consciousness starting to fade into the forefront.

"Do we have any more elfroot? I can't seem to find any." He heard a kind yet seemingly exhausted voice ring out. Twisting his head bit by bit, Lucas could make out the shadow of a sister in service to the Chantry, hunched over a box lying on the ground as her hands frantically rifled through its contents in search of the mentioned herb.

"Not much, sister. We're starting to run out." Another voice replied, to which he could only guess was someone aiding the sister. The voice sounded just as feminine, though with less of that sweet tone to dull the sharp tone she was taking on.

"Well, hurry and get someone to harvest some. More people are coming in every hour and we need supplies if we're to help the wounded."

"We have more wounded! Make way!" A soldier exclaimed as he burst through the doors with panting breath. Lucas almost felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the doors swing open with a mighty boom. Several men and women all being transported on gurneys were carried into the room, some of them howling in pain. Crude bandages covered the less severe injuries while the rest were unfortunately left to have its day in the sun, blood seeping from wounds trying desperately to heal. Some had more of a concussion problem, the soldiers gripping their hand in barely concealed agony.

"Maker's breath! Hurry and get that elfroot, dear!" The sister spoke, prompting her aide to rush out behind the soldier, no doubt going to fetch more patients for them to tend to.

"At once, sister!" As soon as the aide left, Lucas heard the main hall doors slam open. At first, he assumed it was merely the aide leaving the Chantry, but as time wore on, so too did the sounds of people bickering start to grab his attention. Weak as he was, Lucas pushed himself into a more upright position to listen in on the conversation. '_And here comes the Inquisition full swing... Perfect, crisis number three..._' Lucas thought to himself as he was fortunate to have the door open at just the right angle, allowing him to see the two main dissenting voices in that heated argument.

"As Grand Chancellor, I'm ordering you to escort the prisoner to Val Royeaux for sentencing!" Roderick spoke harshly, pointing a grubby finger at a person off to the right, blocked from Lucas' view by the door. '_Must be the Inquisitor. Wonder what he... or she is like..._'

"I do not answer to you, Chancellor. We have no time for bureaucracies. Our priority is closing the Breach and the prisoner is the only one who can close them." Cassandra Penthagast answered in kind, her own hand making gestures as she replied to Roderick.

"That does not mean you can harbour a criminal! Or have you forgotten what has happened?"

"Do I not have a say in the matter?" The Inquisitor finally spoke, in an almost condescending tone that dared retribution. The tone of his voice suggested male and from the Free Marches, Lucas deducing that he was Inquisitor Trevelyan from Ostwick. '_Well, looks like my theory was correct. Don't know if that makes things easier..._' His head started to pang with residual headaches, making him see the need for proper bed rest. '_Right, just... take it easy, Lucas. You'll have plenty of time to get stuck in with the rest of the lot._' As he took to sleep once more, he missed hearing what came next.

"Cassandra, I need to tend to our agents. They may still have information on the Breach."

"Alright, Leliana. We'll brief you later." Cassandra replied, escorting both Trevelyan and Roderick into the war room while Leliana made her way to the infirmary.

"This isn't over!" Roderick echoed one final sentiment before disappearing into the war room. Leliana shook her head with disappointment, before stepping into the infirmary.

"Sister, how are my agents doing?" Leliana said, her eyes watching one of her agents as she laid out on the bed, her chest rising up and down at an alarming rate, lost in a nightmare while her arm was a stream of blood barely stymied by the crude bandages her fellow agents had slapped on her.

"I just got them! I do not have enough hands to deal with my patients let alone your agents!" The sister responded to her pestering with a grim and stern look on her face, momentarily pausing in her treatment of her patient, still groaning in pain behind her. Leliana took the hint, nodding gravely and stepping away to allow the sister to carry out her work. She took a glance at the chest meant to store all their restorative materials, noting how it seemed almost barren at this stage.

"We want for many things, it seems." Leliana commented as her hands dug through the scraps left behind, none of it falling on deaf ears.

"I've sent out runners. Hopefully Haven's surroundings will provide." The sister wistfully thought, wrapping a fresh bandage around a new wound. It remained deathly silent for a few moments, Leliana merely watching as the Chantry sister settled into a groove, darting between patients like she was on a timer.

"Ugghh... What's...what's going on?" Lucas groaned out, breaking the silence as he finally felt rested enough to pull himself out from his short nap. It took a lot of effort simply to keep him propped up against the bedframe behind his back. At his familiar tone of disposition, Leliana made an abrupt spin on her heels, head spinning in place to see him. '_Could it be...?_'

"That voice... Lucas?" She answered incredulously, the bard rushing over to her lover's side with a brisk pace in her step. Lucas could barely contain his own surprise at seeing her, feeling her arms wrap around his body with a gentle touch, her loving warmth a comfort in this land of nightmares.

"Leli...Leliana? Is that you?" Lucas mumbled out.

"Maker, what happened to you?" Her eyes went straight down to check him once over, seeing nothing but wounds and bruises. "Sister, bring me a poultice!" Her bark gave the Chantry sister a jolt in her step, making her yelp like a tiny dog. Meeting that response with a barely audible 'hmmph', the sister left to acquiesce to Leliana's demands.

"You're going to be alright, love. I'm here." Her hand traced an outline across Lucas' cheek, a feeling he reciprocated with a short yet sweet smile. It slowly dissolved into a expression of confusion, eyes darting back and forth.

"Wha...What's going on? I remember... being at... the... the..." Lucas stuttered, his memory trying to piece itself back from the copious amount of blood lost. It took him at least a minute to finally gather his senses, all sixty seconds of which Leliana stared into his eyes with a worried frown etched across her eyebrows.

"The Conclave exploded, didn't it?" Lucas' hands tugged at the blankets, the memory of the explosion still etched like a damning scar on his soul, terrifying him despite his years of experience with the weird and unnatural.

"Yes." Leliana replied in a calm manner, already keenly aware of his unusually sound gut reactions. '_I guess he knew it was going to happen. I wonder if he was here to stop it. Or maybe..._'

"Anyone other than your prisoner survived?" He interrupted her train of thought before it could reach its destination.

"Not that we know of. Why?" She asked. Lucas raised his hand from the comfort of the blanket and held it out, palm facing up towards the ceiling. Scrunching his face in concentration, Lucas felt a rush of unfamiliar energy pulse through his heart and into his hand, erupting in a glow of greenish-white, tendrils of stray energy looping like vines in thin air. Leliana's eyes widened, awe-struck not only by the spectacle of it, but also due to its implication on what it meant for her lover.

"I think you found another one." He said grimly, looking down at his hand as the energy started to recede back into place, his arm collapsing to his side as he gave a long-winded sigh. Like it or not, the Seer was now more than just he is. Now... he was a suspect too...

The Inquisition's soldiers carried Lucas in with iron rusted chains wrapped around his hands, both guards having to prop him on their bulky shoulder plates as Lucas was still too weak to walk on his own. Leliana escorted the three of them to the war room, still looking rather pensive as they met the door. She rapped on the wooden oak barrier separating them, the door swinging open to reveal Cassandra's exasperated face greeting them all, her hand gripping tightly on the door frame.

"What is it now, Leliana? I'm still trying to deal with the Chancellor." Pushing the door a little further apart, Lucas and Leliana could make Roderick, sitting in a chair and looking absolutely livid, hands clenched into balls of fists so tightly that it looked as though some veins were starting to pop up across his fingers.

"I'm afraid there have been some... complications in the matter." Leliana put it rather bluntly, a contrast that Cassandra quickly picked up on.

"Is this related to the Breach?"

"Yes, Cassandra."

"Another survivor?"

"Not just any survivor." Leliana moved aside to allow Cassandra the opportunity to meet the man in question.

"Cassandra, meet the Seer. Lucas, this is Cassandra." Leliana stepped aside for Cassandra to see Lucas in chains. Lucas merely gave a nod of his head, whilst playing around with the clinking sounds the chains were prone to make.

"The Maker's Seer! I did not realize..." Her face went wide with surprise, her mouth agape. Lucas had seen that sort of expression first, the kind that he usually associated with wide-eyed admirers, pure fanatics and the people in general. '_One of these days, I'm going to pay a visit to whatever idiot decided to give me that title..._'

"Can we continue this conversation in private, Cassandra?" the spymaster's eyes shifted to the two guards flanking Lucas, then to Chancellor Roderick still sitting in his chair fuming.

"Leave us." Cassandra motioned to the two men standing to either side of Lucas. Both tapped their fists to their chests, before making a 180 and leaving. Roderick meanwhile was left to stew in the war room as Cassandra led the three of them into a separate room, closing and locking the door behind them. It was cramped, seeing as it was being used for storage. Lucas made out several cases with the Amell insignia emblazoned on them, no doubt care packages from Kirkwall. '_I wonder what story is behind them?_' He pondered.

"So, Leliana tells me you too bear the mark. The same mark our prisoner has." Cassandra jumped straight into business.

"So it would seem." He said wistfully.

"Care to explain what happened at the Conclave?" Her arms folded over each other, her boot tapping impatiently on the floor.

"No." Lucas took all of two seconds to come up with an answer. His face looked like he was waiting on something to happen.

"No?" Cassandra repeated, looking highly peeved at Lucas.

"You heard me the first time, Seeker. Answer's no." He responded with a plain tone. Resolve tested, Cassandra was all too eager to get up in Lucas' personal space, a move which tested the seer's own will to remain calm.

"What is the point of withholding information that may help us save lives? Is that not the Maker's will?"

"Allow me to answer that, Cassandra. You see, his powers come from the knowledge the Maker has passed down onto him. If too much is changed, then his information becomes redundant, pointless." Leliana stepped in on behalf of her lover.

"So that is why the Grey Wardens of Fereldan were wiped out by Teryn Loghain? And why the mage rebellion occurred?" Cassandra responded with a look of pure disbelief plastered on her. How could she not, to think that life was to be wasted as part of some overarching plan.

"An unfortunate price... Yet ultimately a price that must be paid regardless." Lucas answered with a guilty expression. '_It's not like I wanted people to die! But sometimes saving the ones who can be saved is better than trying to save those who can't._' He chanted to himself, trying to convince himself of the necessity of the act.

"If he has the mark too, then we have two chances to close the Breach. That would put our odds more evenly, I think." Leliana cast her opinion into the ring, getting a repressed nod from Cassandra.

"I suppose closing the Breach is the most pressing issue at the time. At the same time..." Cassandra started tapping the sword holstered to her belt, the glint on the blade's hilt sending a chill down their captive's spine.

"He could be our suspect and I'm eager to see how far his predictions are accurate. Two birds with one stone." Lucas gulped hard, the lump in his throat just making his skin

"You'll be fine, love. Just... try not to get her angry." Leliana chuckled as she pecked his cheek once before heading for the door, deciding to give them some privacy while she went to dealing with Butler. '_A little payback for him... This should be fun..._'

"Heh... You're joking... Right, Leliana?" He laughed hysterically, still believing it to be a joke. When evidence proved otherwise, that's when he started getting worried.

"Leliana? Joke's over! Please help me out of this mess!" And Lucas could only watch with a fake smile as Cassandra grabbed a chair from behind some boxes and planted herself firmly on it, looking almost pleased with herself as she stretched her legs and arms, making a cracking noise with her knuckles that elicited a whimper from the man. '_Sigh... Note to self, never piss off Leliana again..._'

**Haven, Main Entrance**

It wasn't a good day for Maxwell Trevelyan. After all, just a few hours ago he was nothing more than a noble wanting to see peace restored through the Conclave. Now, he had a weird mark etched on his hand and people were either revering him as an instrument of the Maker or vilifying him as the man who was responsible for the Conclave explosion. '_How did this happen?_' was the most frequent question running in his mind. As Cassandra and Leliana were busy, Maxwell decided to make small talk with Varric Tethras, the dwarf with the weird-looking crossbow. Maxwell felt his armour chafe slightly against the cold winter wind, his battleplate ill-suited to fight in these conditions.

"Ah, the Herald of Andraste. What can I do for you, my friend?" Varric spoke vibrantly, with a witty tone to boot. His hands stretched out to both sides, a welcoming gesture that Maxwell was all too eager to see.

"Maker, please. Do not call me that. I do not need more people fawning over me this early in the morning." Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling nauseous from the idea. He wasn't an avid fan of the Chantry nor was he a firm believer in the Maker. Still, some god had to be wandering around for this to happen. That much he believed.

"Why not? I wish my readers were this rabid. Ever thought about writing a book?" Varric joked.

"I'll leave that to you, Varric. You have a much better way with words." Maxwell played along.

"Of course... I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"So what brings you here?" He asked, wondering how he had come to join this merry band of outcasts and heretics.

"Well, my acquaintance just happened to be the Champion of Kirkwall. Naturally, Cassandra was interested in how the mage rebellion got started. She was bringing me here to speak with the Divine. Not sorry we didn't get here earlier." Varric and Maxwell's eyes went high, up to the hole in the sky that was still raining down green fireballs at sporadic intervals.

"What happened to the rest of her companions?" He broached the subject, eager to hear a first-hand account, rather than some made-up story. '_Ironic, considering I'm asking a dwarf from the Merchants Guild._'

"Well, let's see... I know Fenris is still with her, last I heard from him. I'll bet she's enjoying the broodiness. Merrill went to help out the refugees along with Carver. Those two make a weird pair. Aveline's still guard captain, though considering the situation, it might not be for much longer. Isabela is probably out on the high seas, doing whatever suits her fancy. And Anders... Well, the less I know where he is, the better." At the mention of Anders, there was a clear loathing entering his tone, plus the fact that Varric's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.

"The apostate who blew up the Kirkwall Chantry?" Maxwell responded.

"That's the one... Oh, there was one more person. Weird guy, always seems to be making these crazy prophecies that come true most of the time."

"The Maker's Seer? He knew the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"And the Hero of Ferelden before that. He gets around. People who know him just call him Lucas."

"What's he like?"

"To be honest, he's... complicated. He'll help you out whenever he can, stick up for the party in the right. But... I've never seen the guy smile. Whenever he does his thing, he's always... sad." The tone was confused, which did little to allay Maxwell's questions about the man. '_So, even his closest compatriots doesn't know much about him. Weird._'

"Sounds like your friend Fenris."

"You'd think that, but Fenris can be fun to hang around with. Lucas... In his words, he's just too cynical to have fun."

"Probably has to do with that strange request he made of Hawke." Varric rubbed his head as the thought came to mind. Hawke never told anyone exactly what it was that Lucas requested, only that he did so. And judging by his behaviour in the Hanged Man the very next day, the party could only surmise the meeting did not end well.

"Master Tethras!" A messenger suddenly shouted, shattering Varric's train of thought. The two men watched the messenger huff and puff, running as fast as he could to reach them.

"Uh oh... this can't be good."

"What did you do now?" Varric merely shrugged his shoulders in response. Maxwell stared at the running figure as he finally reached them, bending over in complete exhaustion, chest rising up and down as he attempted to catch his breath.

"Spymaster... Leliana wishes to... speak with you... Huff..." The message paused with each long breath he took, though the gist of it was conveyed readily to the both of them. Pointing to the Chantry, the messenger escorted Varric to the place, the dwarf giving a wave goodbye to Maxwell before leaving. As instructed, Varric went as fast as his small dwarf legs could take him, eventually reaching the infirmary and swinging the oak doors wide open.

"What's the racket, Nightingale? I was regaling the Herald with tales of..." Varric stopped mid-sentence when he saw Lucas lying down on the bed right in front of him.

"Nice to meet you too, Varric." Lucas replied with a wry smile. He was absconded in his bed, drained from a long and arduous battle of words with Cassandra. His arm could barely raise itself to give a curt wave, fingers shaking as if they were numb to the bone.

"Well, I'll be a nug uncle..." Varric's eyes widened with shock. It was like seeing an old friend come back from nowhere. Varric was really pleased. '_Well, at least there's one friendly face in all of this._'

"So, I guess Cassandra did what she does best..." Varric jested, walking into the infirmary with a wry, mischievous smile on his face. The infirmary doors closed behind him, leaving the people outside to only ponder what was really happening in there. Only one thing was for certain. The Inquisition has risen once more and while its purpose is yet unclear, some theorized that their organization may yet be instrumental in shaping the events to follow.

**So here comes the end of the first chapter. Not up to my usual standards, but considering my absence, I will try and get back into the groove as soon as possible. Until then, stay tuned and see you guys soon...**


	2. A Step Forward

**CHAPTER 2: A STEP FORWARD**

**Here we go. Chapter 2... I won't say much since I'm writing almost immediately after the first chapter. For anyone who follows or favourites my story, I would like to say thank you for your support. It means a lot to know that people read my stories and enjoy them as much as I do making them. Thank you again. With that said, let us move on to the story...**

**(FLASHBACK) REDCLIFFE VILLAGE**

The village had definitely seen better days. Some of the buildings were in shambles, either set aflame by some cornered fool with a torch or in splinters, the undead reclaiming the land as if decreed by Mother Nature. The Warden and his companions had only just arrived a mere two hours ago and already the people of Redcliffe were more prepared than they had ever been for the last week or so. Still, there was a lot of work to do. Aedan, being the upstanding Warden he was, took to training the militia in the skills his mentors once taught him. Morrigan was busy pouting, Aedan's Mabari keeping her company. She seemed a little annoyed by the dog's attempts in making her play with it, eventually relenting and throwing a stick in a general direction in hopes of having some peace to herself at last.

Wynne aided the healers in tending to the wounded in the Chantry, along with Sten and Oghren as back-up for certain... very reluctant individuals trying to resist their treatment. Zevran meanwhile served as scout, using the windmill to keep an eye on the castle closely, ready to give a signal should the dead start walking again. That left Leliana, Alistair and Lucas to handle some small tasks. It was during this time that Alistair spilled the beans about his royal heritage to the both of them, having earlier told Aedan in private.

"So, yeah... My mother was a... handmaid. And my father just happened to be King Maric." Alistair said gruffly, finishing his long-winded tale while he was carrying some timber for use in defences for the town.

"I knew." Lucas answered, supporting one end of the massive log. Leliana took hold of the other end as Alistair took center stage.

"How did you...? Wait, I forget you're really good at visions sometimes." He drawled, trying to crack wise about Lucas' uncanny ability. '_Certainly handy in most cases, but it still freaks me out when I see it in action._'

"I try not to make it public knowledge." Lucas responded in kind, hefting the heavy log on his shoulder, causing him to wince from the load he was trying to bear.

"Yes, you've been doing such a good job lately." Alistair sarcastically remarked. Silence followed the group for some time, the three of them simply lugging the massive log to the lumber mill. They set it down on the ground next to it, receiving a warm acknowledgement of the mill workers' gratitude. Soon enough, Alistair prompted conversation anew as they were looking for more work to do.

"If you knew, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you were going to tell everyone anyway... There's no point in using it. Doesn't help us with our quest... At worst, people might think you untrustworthy. With good reason too." Lucas summed up his thought process in one fell swoop.

"It's alright, Alistair. It doesn't change anything. In fact, it might be better. Ferelden will need someone to lead them after we remove Loghain." Leliana piped up, adding her two cents to the conversation.

"Maker's breath...No, Leliana. I am not at all suited to lead. I can barely find my own socks at times."

"Sometimes we have no choice. We must follow the path the Maker has laid out for us. And besides, you don't have to worry about finding your socks. That's what servants are for." Leliana giggled at the last sentence.

"Hooray." Alistair groaned sarcastically.

"Trust me, Alistair. Ferelden will be lucky to have you as King."

"Don't tell me I'm actually going to be that?" Alistair cocked an eyebrow, wondering if he was about to make another prophecy.

"Depends..." Lucas trailed off, which didn't sit well with Alistair.

"On what?"

"On what happens in Denerim." Lucas then looked in the general direction of Denerim, as did his travelling companions. Whatever was coming, it was apparent all roads will eventually lead to Denerim. The enemy was coming, little time left to waste.

**War Room, Haven Chantry**

Stepping into the war room for the first time, Lucas had to admit he had seen better lodgings before. '_This certainly doesn't beat the Amell estate. I guess I can consider it an upgrade from being on the road during the Blight._' He pondered, still twitching every time the thought of insects crawling all over your skin whilst trying to fall asleep entered his mental landscape. To the sides, several banners raising the Inquisition insignia were hung on the stone walls. Furthermore, several crates of old stuff remained within the confines of the room, simply adding to the theory that this room used to be nothing more than a chapel of sorts.

In the center of it all was the strategic map. A vast wooden table with the map of Thedas plastered on top, carvings in the supports and several metal figures on the board. Several drawers were built into the table, laden with various other pieces to signify other things besides simple troop and enemy placement. Lucas whistled a low tune, impressed by their progress.

"Wow...This is... new." He commented dryly, noting the impromptu setup.

"It will have to make do." Cullen echoed his sentiments, though was more at home with the improvisation. '_It serves its purpose. I see no reason it should change._'

"Hey there... Maxwell Trevelyan, at your service." Maxwell introduced himself, extending his hand in a welcoming gesture to the new arrival. Varric had spoken much about him as soon as he was done visiting. '_I never thought I'd actually see the Maker's Seer with my own eyes. Probably feels just like I do now, all this unwanted attention..._'

"Lucas." He put it bluntly.

"No last name?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow.

"I prefer that remains a secret." He retorted, his tone taking a brusque manner as he spoke.

"So, I guess we're in the same boat." Maxwell said, brushing off the secretive and defensive tone Lucas had suddenly invoked.

"It appears to be that way."

"I hope we'll work well together. Can't let that Breach get any bigger than it is now..."

"It won't." Lucas brushed past him, a stern look on his face that either spoke volumes about his determination or volumes about his acerbic personality.

"Okay..." Maxwell could only look flabbergasted as all his expectations regarding Lucas was shot down left and right. All he could do was walk in with him and listen to what the Inquisition's advisors had to say.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce our advisors." Cassandra addressed them both.

"Josephine is our ambassador. She'll be serving as our diplomat." She waved her hand to an Antivan lady, dressed in a gold and blue formal wear that looked very fetching and far too regal to belong in a place like this. On first impression, Maxwell could sense that she was not at all used to such downsize in luxury. Indeed, he could see her twitch sometimes, often trying to avoid large patches of dust.

"May I say that it is an honour to meet the both of you? I've heard many good things about your exploits." She said, wielding a book with a candle attached to the board holding the book.

"The pleasure is mine, Josephine." Maxwell greeted her warmly. Lucas merely shook her hand and gave a curt nod.

"Welcome aboard, ambassador." Lucas said.

"Commander Cullen leads the Inquisition's military forces." For Cullen, Lucas didn't need to bother with instructions. Aside from their encounter at the Ferelden Circle, Lucas also dealt with him during his ten year stint in Kirkwall. '_Ah, times I'd rather forget now..._'

"Cullen. Nice to see that Meredith hasn't rubbed off on you..." Lucas sardonically quipped. Maxwell looked to Lucas, then to Cullen. '_Just how many people does this guy know?_'

"Good to see you again, Seer. I never did get to thank you in Kirkwall. Your warning was most appreciated." Cullen was almost always business, but there was a crack, a show of gratitude beneath that authority figure.

"The damage was already done." Lucas looked at him with a guilty heart. '_Even with Meredith locked up in the loony bin, the Templars still went too far and the mages took it too far. There was no win state there..._'

"Even so, your actions saved lives that could have been lost. For that, I am grateful." Cullen nodded, himself feeling guilty for being unable to assuage Lucas' guilt.

"As for you, Maxwell, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here, Commander."

"And last but not least..." Lucas groaned at this point. '_This is taking forever! We need to cut to the chase!_' he thought to himself.

"Let's just cut to the chase, Cassandra. Leliana's the spymaster for our little party. She'll be handling operations we'd rather keep hidden from public view, so on and so forth." Lucas rattled them off as if speaking from a pre-written speech on paper.

"Yes, tactfully put, Lucas." Leliana sarcastically commented, earning a wry grin from her lover.

"That's why you keep me around." He responded in kind, receiving a mischievous grin in return.

"Pleasure to meet you, Leliana." Maxwell extended his hand. Leliana shook it with a curt nod of her head.

"Likewise, Herald."

"Now that we have pleasantries out of the way, shall we move onto the pressing matter at hand?"

"Right now, we have but limited resources and favours to pull from. Getting anything done will be tricky." Leliana laid out their current situation, hands pressed on the continent map spread out before them, a token denoting Haven's location on the board.

"We need to start winning hearts then. Show them that the Inquisition is here to help restore order, rather than whatever lies the Chantry will feed them." Josephine suggested.

"Actions do speak louder than words." Cullen concluded in agreement with Josephine.

"Exactly..."

"A revered mother, Mother Giselle, wishes to speak to the both of you." At the mention of someone involved with Chantry, both Maxwell and Lucas had to look at Leliana with a general sense of confusion. For Maxwell, it was more along the lines of why a Chantry mother would wish to associate with an organization that is by all means a group of heretics bent on perverting the Maker's will. On the other end, Lucas wondered what possible reason Giselle would have to speak to him.

"Why would a Chantry mother want to speak with us? Weren't we branded heretics by them?" Maxwell voiced his concerns.

"I do not know. But it's worth checking out, yes?" Leliana shrugged her shoulders, the plating on her shoulders clinking slightly under her moving body.

"She has a point." Cassandra agreed with Leliana.

"She's in the Hinterlands tending to the refugees there."

"Two birds with one stone. We go meet Mother Giselle and win hearts at the same time." Maxwell slammed his fist on his other hand, the lightbulb moment hitting him like an unexpected wave of ingenuity.

"Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, I'll try and contact the mages and the templars to seek their aid in closing the breach." With the meeting adjourned, all three of the advisors left the room, talking with their respective aides about the tasks they were asked to carry out. Cassandra left on her own accord, sparing one wary glance towards both Maxwell and Lucas before leaving them be and heading to the outer walls of Haven to practice. As they both walked out at the same time, Maxwell mumbled something about checking up on various requisition requests and strolled off ahead of Lucas to do so. Lucas finally stepped outside to see Haven for the first time since his visit during the Fifth Blight.

At first glance, nothing much had changed. Rocky mountains with loose rocks covered most entrances into Haven, surrounding it like a natural wall. Within the actual walls of Haven was a cascade of buildings and tents, many of which were nothing more than ramshackle huts and one story houses crafted entirely out of wood. '_No wonder the dragon can get funky with this place. It's one big fire hazard waiting to happen._' Looking around even further, Lucas made out the blacksmith's shop working on the outskirts, a trail of black smog pumping out from the roof of the place. The tavern was certainly lively when he passed through that vicinity, rife with the sounds of drunken soldiers singing tales to forget about the world, if only for a brief moment using the strongest booze they could find. Some merchants still peddled their wares, though the ones selling weapons and armour seemed to be doing more business than their competitors.

Just as he was about to leave, a messenger belonging to Leliana's group rushed past him, nearly knocking him down on his feet. Lucas caught sight of a parchment in his hand, tied with a thin piece of thread. Normally, he'd just brush it off as a mere intelligence report and think little else of it. Yet his gut and his foreknowledge suggested to him otherwise. '_Oh, no..._' went his mind as he chased after the messenger back to Leliana's tent.

Meanwhile, Maxwell was busy talking with Solas soon after dealing with Threnn, their requisitions officer. Solas was an interesting character to Maxwell, his tales quite a treat to listen too at times. They shared an easy-going talk about elves, the Fade and the Breach before the subject inevitably turned elsewhere.

"Solas, have you ever heard of the Maker's Seer?"

"You mean our new travelling companion?"

"Yes. Does the Fade say anything about them? Do the spirits know anything?" Solas looked somewhat pleased with Maxwell's direct nature. '_Straight to the point? I guess it'll do..._'

"You must understand. Spirits do not have much reason to stay in our world. Few wander only long enough to sate their curiosity before they live. As for whether they can shed light on our mysterious companion, I'm afraid they are as lost as you are." He shrugged his shoulders.

"And what about you?"

"Considering I've lived as an apostate for this long, my knowledge of him is... limited, possibly non-existent if certain theories hold weight." Solas answered plainly.

"Does the old elven text speak of him?" Maxwell inquired.

"Perhaps... Some texts could describe him as something else entirely, by a different name or identity. Perhaps he may have even walked amongst our kin as their own before..." Solas pondered the possibility in his head, wearing a slight frown as he went through the more logical explanations.

"You sound worried for some reason. Is there something wrong?" Maxwell prodded.

"I do not yet know. From what little you have told me, the Seer has been present for nearly every major conflict that has occurred thus far. It strikes me as suspicious, not mere coincidence."

"Is it? Isn't that part of his job description? Help the people with the foreknowledge he possesses?"

"Then why not stop it before it happens? Why allow for suffering to continue?" Maxwell had to concede the point. '_It is odd. According to Leliana during our discussions earlier, Lucas only gives information as it occurs. There are only rare occasions when he 'deviates' from the Maker's plan, as he puts it. I wonder how much of that is actually true?_'

"Perhaps the..." Maxwell never got to finish his sentence.

"Are you insane?!" A loud yell echoed throughout the camp, heads spinning towards the source of the commotion.

"Sounded like Lucas. I'd best go check it out." Maxwell left Solas, who merely waved as the Herald left. When he got there, everyone surrounding Leliana's tent were trying to look busy, when in reality they were too fixated on what some considered to be a lovers' quarrel. Both of them were shouting at each other at the highest pitches they could go to, their hands either gripping to their waistline or pointing at each other with what seemed like angry intent.

"This is not how we do things, Leliana!"

"And what do you know of being a spymaster?!"

"I know that it doesn't mean this!"

"I'm sacrificing one man to save the rest!"

"That's not it and you know it!"

"We don't have the luxury of knowing the future, unlike you!" Leliana jabbed Lucas in the chest with her finger.

"Stop making excuses!" Lucas screamed, his hand shaking away at Leliana with anger. Leliana looked about ready to give him a piece of her mind until she spotted Maxwell standing right outside, no doubt hearing every last word from the last few minutes. She cleared her throat, alerting Lucas to their guest's presence.

"This conversation is over, Lucas." Leliana stubbornly got the last word. Lucas looked aghast, struggling to come up with something else to say. With a heavy sigh, he left the tent with a downcast look on his face.

"She'll listen to you. Just... talk her out of it." Lucas said, patting Maxwell on the back and disappearing into the Chantry.

"What was that about?" Maxwell thumbed over in the general direction Lucas headed in.

"One of my agents has killed another, most likely as an act of betrayal. Lucas was... vehemently opposed to the idea of killing him."

"Well, why? It sounds like we shouldn't." At his words, Leliana sighed yet again. '_Oh, great... Someone else to preach this nonsense at a time when I don't need it..._'

"Sigh... I have no time for ideals, not at a time like this. If one death spares my agents a similar fate, then it is the right thing to do." Leliana stuck to her guns.

"Ideals are important, especially at a time like this."

"We can't risk losing our assets." Leliana argued.

"Who says we will? Surely there is some other way of keeping your secrets safe that doesn't involve murder."

"You feel very strongly about this." Leliana sounded very pissed, Maxwell almost thinking of backing off when he saw her arms twitch. With a somewhat reluctant sigh, Leliana signalled not to him but to her aide, who promptly rushed up to her side.

"Apprehend Butler but keep him alive." The agent nodded, bowing low and thumping his fist against his chest before sauntering away to do her bidding.

"Now if you have nothing else to discuss, let us get back to work." Her tone was icy, as cold as winter when she spoke, a clear sign that she was not at all convinced that it was the right thing to do. Before Leliana turned away, she heard Maxwell speak again.

"You know he just predicted again, right?"

"Yes... I'm aware." When he left, Maxwell spotted Lucas out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the doorframe and looking on with a solemn look awash over him.

"You were right. She listened." Maxwell said meekly, his mood drooping when Lucas' expression took a turn for the worse.

"I wish I wasn't." He weakly made to leave, his tone feeling completely defeated.

"You got the outcome you predicted. Isn't that a good thing?" Maxwell raised his hands in the air, somewhat confused by this outcome. '_I thought he'd be happy to be right. Or that I helped him..._'

"No, it's the fact that she wouldn't listen to me." Maxwell could only watch him limp away, his shoulders slumped down in apparent sadness. Shaking his head, Maxwell stepped back inside, eager to prepare to head to the Hinterlands and get to work on closing the Breach.

**The Hinterlands**

It was nice and sunny in the Hinterlands, the complete opposite of Haven's chilly embrace. The rays of sunlight pierced the veil offered by the forest, highlighting the inherent beauty beneath all the trees. Various herbs and metals dotted the landscape, making Maxwell glad that he had asked the group to bring along picks to mine the precious metals, shears to cut the herbs and markers to note down any large concentrations that the Inquisition can use to replenish supplies. Several ruins also dotted the landscape, its carcasses having long been reclaimed by nature with vines overgrowing their intrusions. They had just set off from the forward base camp the scouts had set up, after being briefed on the region by lead scout Harding. The party had been walking to the crossroads, where they were told housed a bunch of refugees that might need some help and Mother Giselle, still tending to the wounded.

"We never were properly introduced. My name is Solas." Solas extended his hand out to Lucas, who reciprocated the gesture. Even then, Lucas was already feeling slightly mistrustful, especially considering his actual persona as the Dread Wolf of elven legends.

"Lucas. Nice to meet you..." Lucas gave a plain smile to the elven apostate.

"I must say, the stories don't do you justice. You sound kind."

"When I need to be... People tend to remember fear more often than not." Lucas said, kicking a stray rock in his path, the small stone hitting the tree right in front of Maxwell and tearing a piece of bark from it.

"So, do you know how our stories end?" Solas put it bluntly, his staff knocking on the dirt path once every few seconds, the soft thump a constant as it ringed in Lucas' ears.

"You're asking for spoilers, Chuckles?" Varric chimed in, carrying his crossbow Bianca in his arms. They had run into some trouble earlier involving some nasty looking spiders and Varric hasn't sheathed his weapon ever since. '_Well... That's new._' Lucas made a mental note of it.

"And why not, Master Tethras? Don't you want to know?" Solas responded.

"You don't just skip to the end of the book when you read. It's all about the journey there. Otherwise, most books would be less than ten pages. And I wouldn't be selling as much. Besides, people are only interested in the ending if the journey was exciting." Varric replied earnestly, revealing much of his idyllic idea of a storyteller.

"I know of an ending. It does not mean your end, so to speak." Lucas put his answer forward, deliberately being cryptic about it.

"I see. So your clairvoyance only goes so far." Solas noted.

"Watch it, Solas. I know your secret and like most other secrets, it has the potential to destroy many things. I would suggest not adopting such a tone." Lucas retorted, not liking the idea of being called expendable, even if the intent was far from that.

"If you know, then share with us my apparently embarrassing secret." Solas courageously answered, in reality frightful of just how much Lucas actually knew.

"I'm not stupid. There is no point in revealing it now, neither for you, me or the Inquisition." Lucas balked, Solas' response somewhat disconcerting.

"Then you can't prove that you know."

"I guess we'll see soon enough." Lucas responded curtly, letting the chirping of the birds and the rustle of the leaves in the wind be the only sounds to echo in the forest. Cassandra was watching the entire thing play out with a curious interest and she voiced her opinion on the matter.

"You're quite acerbic in your dealings, Seer. It ill suits you, being a proclaimed servant of the Maker." Lucas stifled a chuckle when Cassandra pointed out his behaviour to him, only aware of the sheer irony in that statement when he gave a knowing look at her before responding.

"The Maker gives us discretion over what we do, so long as peace is restored. Unlike Josephine, sometimes brute force is a measure we must resort to." Lucas tapped his blades when he said this. When he arrived here, he was nothing more than a defenceless scholar, forced to hide behind more competent men and women as they fought his battles for him. He was far from the best, if Leliana could be asked but he knew just enough to get by. Plus, he had an emergency weapon that was brought along for the ride with him, though he hasn't been given a reason to use it thus far. '_I doubt they'd take kindly when I reveal it anyway. I can just imagine them trying to figure out how it works..._' he thought to himself, Cassandra's next words snapping him out of his mind.

"You sound like you're convincing yourself."

"I'm still hopeful that lives can be saved without bloodshed. Yet my experiences have shown that this is not always the case." He sadly intoned, regretful of that particular life lesson. Cassandra could only nod in solemn agreement. '_He has a way of saying things that are true... and yet so depressing._' With that, silence returned yet again and the party walked forward in silence, no more words to say at the time.

"Well, this is depressing." Varric responded, echoing the sentiments of their party almost to the letter. The crossroads wasn't just packed with refugees. No, it was filled to the brim, every last space left free taken up by people attempting to escape the giant hole in the sky. Several carts dotted the premises, merchants selling their wares wherever they can or civilians desperately holding on to what little they have. Several fires also made a faint impression of a perimeter, surrounded by militia and the advance forces of the Inquisition occupied more by gossip than by demons at this time.

"Well, then...Time to go to work." Maxwell quipped, stepping forward. Lucas hung back a little as they moved forward, knowing that he was once again willingly stepping into yet another mess. '_Why can't I just have a normal life?_' he pondered, eventually walking into full view of the people at the crossroads, ready to begin another adventure.


	3. A War Of Their Own Making

**CHAPTER 3: A WAR OF THEIR OWN MAKING**

**Woo hoo... Chapter 3! Thank you guys so much for the support that has been given so far. It means a lot to receive feedback and to see people enjoy my stories. This chapter will concern itself with Mother Giselle, the meeting in Val Royeaux as well as starting to introduce the remaining other characters into the Inquisition. So, without further ado, let us continue our tale... Fair warning, the codex entry below is a modified version of the codex found in Dragon Age 2.**

_Knight Commander Meredith_

_Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard was a native of Kirkwall. An orphan who joined the Templar Order when quite young, she worked her way up the ranks by merit of sheer determination. She was credited with removing the previous viscount, Perrin Threnhold, from his position after he attempted to have the templars expelled from the city in 9:21 Dragon. The acting knight-commander was arrested and executed, and Meredith led a group of templars into the heart of the Keep to capture Threnhold. He was tried and imprisoned three days later by Grand Cleric Elthina and died from poisoning two years later. Meredith was subsequently elevated to her former position. _

_Many say the templars fought only to preserve their own position in Kirkwall, not to oppose Threnhold's tyranny. Others believe Meredith has always held the moral high ground, even if not all approve of her methods. Back then, she enjoyed the grand cleric's full support and had free rein in Kirkwall as the commander of its most powerful military force, unchallenged by the viscount._

_This did not last however and soon through the influence of an idol made of red lyrium, she went insane, paranoid to the point of insanity. Before such madness came to a climax, the Champion of Kirkwall, informed by the Maker's Seer along with Knight Captain Cullen arrested Meredith, locking her away in the very same prison she once placed mages in, an irony not lost on Grand Enchanter Orsino. This did not stop members of the Templar Order still fiercely loyal to Meredith, who when given reason through the Chantry explosion nearly slaughtered the Kirkwall Circle, resulting in the Mage-Templar War. Meredith still remains in the Gallows, where she is presided over the remnants of the Templars, who have begun to whisper about her crazed rantings, many of which involve reuniting her with her red lyrium sword, the whereabouts of which remain unconfirmed since it was stolen from its secure vault three days later._

The crossroads was the Ostagar, the Deep Roads expedition, the point when Lucas truly starts to get a clear picture on the gravity of it all. Though in Hawke's case, it wasn't as much of a sign of things to come as he expected. Here however was a different case. He, Maxwell and their companions spent the first day walking around the camp, taking requests from various refugees and getting a lay of the land. Today was the actual day they started to roll up their sleeves and start getting down to business. So it was that Maxwell led the group into the Hinterlands in search of rams to cut up for meat and rifts to close.

Varric drew out his crossbow, taking aim down the custom scope with a glint in his eye. With a steady finger, he pulled on the trigger, letting a bolt fly at brisk speeds towards its destination. The bolt found its mark, tearing a hole in a nearby ram, the animal yowling in pain before tumbling over, tongue sticking out and its eyes completely glazed over. The bolt remained embedded within, the bolt's tip slick with fresh blood as the wound poured the red liquid all over the once pristine ground. Maxwell quickly rose, dagger in hand to slice up the meat and skin from the carcass.

"How many does that make it, Varric?" Maxwell asked as he went about the grim business, pulling the dagger across the ram's belly, the skin parting before the iron.

"Six so far..." Varric remarked, making sure to pull the undamaged bolt out before Maxwell began, the blood staining his gloves and the body making a disgusting squelching noise that sent a shiver down everyone's spines.

"Should be enough for the refugees until we can get more relief here..." Cassandra responded, keeping watch on the group, eagle eyes trained on the growth line. The pack that they were carrying around was bulging with freshly cut ram steaks, slick with barely congealed blood soaked on the leather.

"Let's hope. Wait... You hear that?" Lucas perked his ears up, hearing the rustling of leaves in the distance. Drawing his dagger at the same time everyone drew their respective weapons, his eyes spinned around to look for the supposed threat. The rustling steadily grew closer with every heartbeat, then stopped all of a sudden. Suddenly, five templars still clad in their uniform/armour burst out from cover, raising their swords and shouting in unison,

"Die, sympathizers!" The lead templar yelled out, his sword swinging down and nearly striking Lucas, who quickly leaped back to evade the ill-timed attack.

"We're not with the mages!" Varric screamed out, hoping to reason with them. None of the templars regarded his reply and instead took it to be a sign as to the leader of this group of supposed rebels. One of the templars threw up his shield as Varric flung bolt after bolt into the shield, each bolt breaking into two upon impact. The templar blindly rushed with his shield in front, forcing Varric to leap out of harm's way at the last possible moment.

"I don't think they care, Varric!" Maxwell screamed back, using his greatsword to swing at the Templar, slicing away at his midriff. The sword cut a huge gash across the armour plating, which the Templar shrugged off to continue relentlessly assaulting him with his sword.

Meanwhile, Solas was busy dealing with his own trouble. Two of the templars were flanking him, shields raised and their longswords at the ready. Instinctively he slammed his staff into the ground, moments later having a rockfist erupt from the ground with a thunderous boom, sending one of the templars flying into the air, arms flailing in the wind. The other templar marched forward with a glint of anger in his eyes, only to be sideswiped by Cassandra ramming into his side with her shield. The man flew off to the side, the crack of bones distinctly heard when he collided with a large rock, chunks of the bruised stone falling on top of the templar and covering him in rocks. The airborne templar had the brilliant hindsight to land on top of one of his comrades, his friend struggling underneath his body's weight. A single thrust of Cassandra's blade silenced the man as he tried to reach for his sword, his eyes going limp as life faded from his body.

Lucas meanwhile did his best to contribute to the fight in any way he could. Seeing Varric struggle with the overly defensive templar, Lucas went right up behind him and jammed his dagger into a chink in the armour, the man yelping in pain and dropping his shield from the excruciating pain in his abdomen. Whilst distracted, Varric quickly cranked up another bolt into his crossbow, firing it as quickly as it had been loaded. It struck dead center in the man's head, the back of the bolt jutting out like some perverse unicorn. With a smirk, Varric turned around and held his head to the ground. Moments later, the bolt erupted in a shower of blood, spraying chunks of bone and meat across the battlefield, leaving naught but a stump for a head as the body collapsed helplessly to the floor. Seeing this, the leader of the templars gave up his foolish ambition, fleeing from his fight with Maxwell into the woods.

"Eccch... I'll be cleaning my clothes all day." Lucas joked, noting Varric's handiwork with a reluctant nod.

"Come on. Hopefully there will be no further trouble until we get to the rift." Cassandra replied, taking the time to wipe the grime from her sword before leading on, Maxwell rushing forward to keep up.

"Keep dreaming, Cassandra." Lucas muttered under bated breath, pulling out his dagger from the headless templar's ribs. '_There's never a time when this has gone smoothly. Why should it start now?_' He thought to himself. The day went about the way he expected, lots of fights and lots of finishing off tasks set to them by the refugees. Coming back, there were still some individuals who gave both Maxwell and Lucas a suspicious glance, while others openly welcomed their champions back, chanting their titles like a catchy tune that doesn't go out of style. So it was a breath of fresh air to be speaking with Mother Giselle at last, a conversation Lucas tuned out from the stone wall nearby, hands crossed from one another. He watched their lips move, echoing words that he had already heard before. There seemed to be an expression of doubt plastered over Maxwell as he spoke, each syllable seeming less certain of his destiny. Mother Giselle was the opposite of that, always taking his words with a warm smile and words that were wise beyond imagination. '_It's a wonder that they didn't consider her for Divine. She'd be a good one._' He considered the possibility.

"Hey, thanks for the assist earlier today." Varric saddled up next to Lucas, watching Maxwell and Mother Giselle talk to one another.

"Hey, no sweat, Varric. Just another day on the job." He brooked a simple smile, his head forced to look down just to meet the dwarf's eyes.

"Heh... This must be normal for you, all this weird shit." Varric's eyes turned to the Breach and its looming presence in the sky. It wasn't raining green fireballs anymore, though the cracks starting to form across the clouds were disconcerting to say the least.

"It's not supposed to be a good thing, but I'll take it that way." Lucas replied with a smirk on his face, receiving an equally wry look from Varric.

"You know, I just realized you never gave me a nickname." Lucas reminded himself of the fact. The dwarf stared at him oddly, wondering why he was bringing it up all of a sudden.

"You already have one, as I recall."

"That's a title given by the people. What's your nickname for me?"

"I don't have one. Never really thought of it, to be honest..." Varric scratched his head, his mind already combing through the possible choices. While he was busy doing so, Maxwell ended his conversation with Mother Giselle who promptly followed the escort provided for her back to Haven.

"So, seems that the mages..." Maxwell began, but stopped when he saw Lucas put up his hand to stop him.

"Are holed up in Redcliffe, under the permission of King Alistair and Queen Anora, while the Templars are holed up in Val Royeaux at the moment..." Lucas rattled it off before Maxwell could finish his sentence. When he was done, he glanced upwards and downwards. Maxwell had his hand raised, as if to point something out, his mouth simply agape for the longest time. Varric, used to Lucas' antics by now gave a low chuckle before returning

"Maker's Seer, remember?" Lucas brought Maxwell crashing back to reality.

"Right, sorry. Just got to get used to it..." Maxwell slapped himself in the face as the knowledge sunk back in. '_Damn, I really need to keep note of this. Why did I have to have a bad memory?_' He silently cursed.

"Trust me, Herald. It takes a while. It still freaks me out sometimes." Varric replied, his head rising up to signal his ascent from his mental day trip.

"Anyway, Val Royeaux will probably be our next stop soon. Get some rest." Varric took this advice to heart, walking off to the nearby hut they were using as a base of operations. Lucas bade to follow, only to feel the Herald's hand hold onto his shoulder.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" Maxwell asked. Lucas shrugged in response, looking confused at the intent behind him. Despite this, he followed Maxwell into a more private setting, covered by vast trees that stretched high into the midnight sky, illuminated by the faint glow emanating from the tear in the sky. Maxwell managed to find a tree stump to sit on, while Lucas chose to rest against the bark, feeling the wood brush against his leather armour.

"I have to ask, what were you doing at the Conclave?" Maxwell asked. '_Darn I hate these questions..._' Lucas sighed, watching the Herald with a keen eye. He was always getting these kinds of questions from the others about their pasts or sometimes even their futures. Many of them he was able to answer to varying degrees, the ones he couldn't leaving him somewhat guilty at times.

"I was asked to help moderate the peace talks, due to my unique position in society. Obviously, that didn't work as expected, seeing as how the delegation representatives, the Divine and a lot of good people lost their lives while we got lucky." He finally relented. The memory was as foggy as Maxwell's, only blurry images a faint reminder of the deeds that had occurred.

"It's not your fault." Maxwell noted his downbeat demeanour.

"Yeah, so I've been told..." Lucas shrugged his shoulders. Silence filled the woods yet again for a minute or so, Maxwell choosing to break it with a follow-up question.

"Representatives? They didn't come in person?"

"No, both sides thought it was a trap set by the other, a ruse to draw and flush them out. Can't blame them... Paranoia these days is the more likely thing to kill us than steel or disease." He spoke with a sense of bitterness, wishing the fact wasn't true at all.

"I wish I could remember what actually happened." Maxwell wished wistfully, looking up at the moonlit night.

"I don't actually remember myself either. But since the Maker gave me this knowledge in the first place, it didn't matter."

"Do you know who did this? Who was actually responsible for the Breach?" Maxwell's eyes lighted up for a brief moment, the knowledge feeling so tantalizingly close. Until Lucas shot him down as he continued to speak.

"I can't tell you that. Not yet. But I will advise you to warn Cullen. Those wooden huts in Haven the Inquisition has going for a base of operations... It'll be nothing but tinder for the fires to come." Lucas made to move, stepping onto the dirt path leading back to the crossroads, leaving Maxwell alone to his thoughts as the only sounds accompanying his long contemplation was the chilling wind passing in the air, the calm before the inevitable storm.

The morning after, Maxwell, Lucas and their companions had made haste for Val Royeaux post haste, eager to meet with the Chantry members still there and hopefully convince them of the Inquisition's legitimacy in these times of crisis. The trek was a long and arduous one, fraught by numerous attempts by roving bands of bandits attempting to forge a new living on what was widely considered the end of the world. Many refugees shared their travels, often giving much needed news about Thedas at large. Most news coming out wasn't good. With rifts appearing all over southern Thedas, demons were rampant in the countryside, with some rifts even opening in cities to surprise the average citizen with a wave of death and destruction. Lucas could see Maxwell's resolve start to harden, his once reluctant persona starting to fade when the call for help grew and grew with each passing group of travellers.

Eventually by first light of dawn four days later, they sighted Val Royeaux. The heart of Orlais and the most popular destination for players of the Grand Game, its sights withheld no beauty from the outside, a shimmering crystal amidst the green hills and forests eclipsing its borders. The gates were splendour and wealth personified, decadent with white and gold, the symbol of the city emblazoned anywhere it could be. Lucas had only visited Val Royeaux once during a break in Hawke's merry adventures with Leliana, thoroughly disgusted by the excess and the fact that the nobles were all but content to call their intrigue a game. '_Idiots think ruining lives and killing in the pursuit of worthless ambitions is a game to be played like children. I don't know how people can make things so simple..._' went his brain as he stepped through the main gates into the city.

The city square was rife with activity, though not with the hustle and bustle of the marketplace as Maxwell was expecting, met instead with both star-struck and fearful eyes whispering beneath bated breath of the man who walked out of the Conclave disaster. Lucas too received a similar response, though it came with more impressed expressions due to his prior actions in Ferelden and Kirkwall reaching Orlais' ears. In the center of a gather crowd, two revered mothers of the Chantry were preaching to them, attempting to restore order. The crowd were a rabble formed of nobles, the average citizen and even some disenfranchised members from the Chantry itself.

"Calm down, people! Do not lose faith! Divine Justinia's death was most unfortunate. But I implore you that you be patient. When the next Divine is anointed, order will be restored through the Chantry. Not by the heretics in the Inquisition!" The more senior looking of the two revered mother spoke to the crowd, holding her hands high in a desperate attempt to rally the crowd and make her voice heard. Some voices quieted down while others resorted to whispers, especially as Maxwell, Lucas and Cassandra strode into the crowd, pushing their way through the mass of meat surrounding them.

"The Herald of Andraste is nothing more than a false prophet, who by all means may be responsible for this heinous crime! And here he is, ready to answer for his crimes!" The revered mother roused support, pointing a trembling finger towards the trio as they finally made it to the front. Maxwell and Cassandra looked plainly shocked hearing such words from what is widely perceived a kindly figure, their eyebrows going up and their irises going wide with surprise. Lucas on the other hand gave an indignant look, one that signified his annoyance with the revered mother.

"Listen to me! I do not consider myself a holy figure, nor do I want to be considered as such! But the Inquisition is here only to restore order, to close the Breach and to find out who was responsible for this!" Maxwell bravely tried to rally the crowd to his side, to little avail.

"You do not scare us! I've called for the Templars! They will restore the peace!" The revered mother said to the crowd, immediately inciting murmurs amongst the crowd. As if on cue, a group of templars strode out to the right of the revered mother, lead by a man with balding hair and wrinkled features, suggesting age and wisdom. Seeing Maxwell prepare to speak against this, Lucas quickly held his shoulder.

"Don't. Just wait for it." He advised, patting his armoured shoulder twice before looking down at his own hand, three fingers already at the ready.

"Ah, Lord Seeker! Arrest these heretics!" The revered mother made demands of them, pointing towards Maxwell, Cassandra and Lucas, only the former two placing their hands near their weapons. The seer on the other was busy counting down, each finger curling in with every number uttered.

"Three... two... one..." At the end of one, the whole crowd gasped in shock as the lead templar's arm flung out, a column of meat encased in steel slamming into the revered mother's face, taking her unawares. She went down like a sack of potatoes, reeling from both pain and shock to Lucas' surprised delight. Being this close to the podium also allowed Cassandra to identify the templar in question, which certainly took her by storm.

"Lucien?" Cassandra said aloud, grabbing the attention of the man in question.

"Cassandra, I should have expected this from you." He sneered through his chatter, already giving off a bad first impression to the entire party. Maxwell was frankly a little peeved and insulted by his dismissive attitude, his fist starting to form, fingers trembling with barely held back anger. Lucas noticed it, jotting it down to memory for future reference.

"Why are you turning your backs on the Chantry?"

"The Templars have been ignored for far too long, Cassandra. We have served them faithfully for years and yet they would ask us to forget our brothers and sisters whom we have lost to mages in favour of making truce with them! I will not acknowledge their authority any longer! The only authority I see before me is mine! Come, brothers! We march to Therinfall Redoubt!" At his behest, the battalion of Templars stormed out without so much of a word, clanking metal striking off into the distance, far away from the city of excess. Lucas watched them with a curious eye, concerned by just how different the words were even if conveyed with the same meaning. '_Sigh... I hope that means nothing else. I'd hate for things to get out of hand..._'

"What was that all about, Cassandra?" Maxwell finally asked, taking a deep breath to release all that pent up rage in an orderly fashion.

"That was Lord Seeker Lucien. Current head of the Seekers of Truth. Or at least I thought he was."

"If you're thinking whether he can be redeemed, don't. The man has learned a terrible secret regarding your order and it has shaken him. It will take another big truth to shake him away from the path he chose to walk." Lucas replied, already guessing what Cassandra had in mind. At his words, Cassandra spun around in a hurry, looking at Lucas with determination burning in her eyes.

"What?! Tell me what he learned!" Cassandra accosted Lucas as soon as he finished speaking, her hands clasping onto his shoulders and shaking him, like trying to wring coin from his pockets.

'It doesn't work that way, Seeker." Varric chimed in, his mind drawing similarities between Aveline's previous attempt at this same shindig.

"The hell it doesn't! He has been sitting on answers the entire time! He has a right to tell us!" She responded in indignation, outright furious that their sole source of information was willingly withholding such knowledge that could be beneficial to the Inquisition and by extension, restoring world order.

"No, I don't! This is the same problem I had with the Warden and the Champion. They all wanted the truth! But they don't realize that the truth is only what you choose to see, an answer unique to everyone! It's not an objective thing! And you have to come to that answer yourself, else learn nothing from it and be stuck making the same error again rather than moving forward!"

"Cassandra, calm down. We need to move forward, not look back." Maxwell stood in front of the two, his calm yet commanding tone clearly demonstrating his latent talents as a leader. With a long-winded sigh, Cassandra finally relinquished her grip on Lucas, hands still shaking with residue anger.

"My apologies, Seer. My emotions got the better of me." She said. Lucas brushed off her apology with a simple smile.

"It's quite alright. I'm used to it by now. I don't hold it against you." Lucas replied amicably, shaking his head at the need for apology. The group started to march out, having had enough excitement for one day.

"If the templars are heading to Therinfall Redoubt, then we need to inform the others, come up with some kind of plan while we..." Maxwell was about to continue when he heard someone clear their throat in front of him. Looking up, he noticed an old elven mage standing before him, wearing the robes of a senior enchanter, a deep shade of blue segmented by a thin line of gold at the waist, shoulders and the ends of the sleeves. She looked worn out, almost tired looking, Maxwell half expecting her to drop and fall asleep at any moment.

"Ah, Herald. Just the person I was hoping to see..." She spoke with a sense of wisdom behind her

"Grand Enchanter Fiona? What are you doing here?" Cassandra went wide with recognition, her tone matching her surprised demeanour. Again, Lucas was as bored with this introduction as the last, merely looking aloof while the rest continued to talk.

"To ask for the Inquisition's aid." Fiona put the matter bluntly.

"Pretty brazen to waltz in here, Grand Enchanter. Aren't you worried that the templars may take notice? You're not exactly on their friends list." Varric noted, wondering how she even managed to remain under the radar while the templars were still lurking about.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. And this qualified as one." Fiona again put her answer in a fairly blunt way.

"What are you suggesting, Grand Enchanter?" Maxwell asked, his right eyebrow raised high with hints of curiosity and wariness swimming in his irises.

"An alliance, I hope. We can discuss the terms in Redcliffe. I will meet you there." Fiona bowed low to Maxwell, bidding farewell as she calmly walked away, almost unaware of the potential danger enemy territory possessed.

"You think this is a trap, Lucas?" Maxwell turned to Lucas, who merely shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyebrows and gave a knowing look all in one.

"You don't need foresight to see that. Though it does make me wonder... Hmmm..." Lucas pondered what he knew. '_If this 'Fiona' was a demon, then why send us straight to their masters? Were they expecting us to be taken so easily by an ambush? Is Corypheus really that arrogant to not consider it? That could be it, considering the idiot's god complex. Or maybe a spirit? Maybe Solas might know more._'

"It's a chance worth taking. Scour our options so that we can make an informed decision." The very person in question said to Maxwell, continuing to watch Fiona walk across the bridge with some interest.

"Hopefully the right one." Cassandra said, the final words on that subject matter, at least for the time being.

It was a long journey back to Haven, though one that left a lot of questions in the minds of those present. Maxwell decided to go straight to Redcliffe with Solas and Cassandra while Varric and Lucas headed back to inform the others about the templars' change in plans. Intercepted halfway, they were informed by Leliana's messenger of a Grey Warden recruiter roaming the Hinterlands, looking for people worthy of the title. Thus they made a detour there, deciding that building their strength would be a worthy pursuit seeing as Therinfall Redoubt wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. As they were walking to the Hinterlands, Lucas found some time to chit-chat with Varric and catch up on any news since Kirkwall.

"So, how's the gang?" Lucas spoke as they continued to march down the dirt path to the Hinterlands, butterflies rustling along the leaves nearby. Varric had his hands in his pockets, whistling a never-ending tune to pass the time.

"Junior's doing alright. You know he and Daisy started seeing each other? I didn't think the kid had the stones for it!" Varric quickly launched into his storyteller mode, happily spilling all the juicy details to Lucas. He would sometimes use his hands to give a clearer picture when he felt it necessary, though Lucas had to ask him to stop when he tried going for a really explicit part of relationships that should by all rights remain private.

"Well, becoming a templar tends to make going after a crush seem insignificant compared to their daily day-to-day affairs. Puts things in perspective..." Lucas admitted, shrugging his shoulders as he did so.

"I don't know where you get all this good advice." Varric joked, ribbing him playfully in the ribs.

"Out of thin air, if I had to guess." Lucas chuckled, cracking wise.

"Hahaha!" Varric responded with a higher than average laugh, the sound echoing in the usually quiet forest. Several animals, startled by the noise, leapt away to relative safety, away from the rambunctious jackals disguised as normal people. Their gallops added to the noise, which only made Varric and Lucas laugh that much harder. For a while, they both smiled, clutching their chest to catch their breath as they recovered from the extended giggles. The question did pull a niggling doubt stuck in Lucas' mind, all but prompting him to ask Varric.

"She still mad?"

"She said to tell you she's sorry." Varric put it in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I...uh... Okay." Lucas stuttered, brain still processing the apology he had just heard. _'Hawke's apologizing? Why now?_'

"You ever going to tell me what you two were discussing about?" He casually brought it up intentionally. It was really bugging him ever since he saw both Hawke and Lucas step out in varying fits of anger, the duo refusing to speak or listen to each other for a week until Aveline stepped in and demanded the two of them push past their differences and move on, a decision made all the more important by the looming hostilities between the mages and the templars.

"Varric..." Lucas groaned, arms limping like a white flag of surrender. '_Please... Don't make me talk about this._' He thought to himself. Noticing Lucas' pained expression at what appeared to be old wounds popping open, Varric quickly retracted his query, not wanting to drag it through the mud.

"Sorry, touchy subject." Varric raised his stout hands in mock surrender.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you... I do, Varric. It's just...sigh... Forget it. It was a stupid thing to ask for in the first place." Lucas said sadly, brooking a weak smile when Varric merely nodded to signal that he got the message.

"Did Aveline get my package?" He hurriedly changed the subject to topics he'd rather discuss.

"Yes, she did. Those architecture plans will be useful in helping Kirkwall rebuild." Varric jubilantly replied, Kirkwall's well-being clearly being on his mind.

"The way things ended with Sebastian, she'll need it." Lucas remarked, his mind already flashing back to Hawke's pivotal decision to ultimately spare Anders, despite his actions. Naturally, Sebastian left with a warning to the group, one that Lucas countered with his own thinly veiled threat, nearly turning Sebastian shades of white.

"Relax, this is Aveline we're talking about. She'll manage. And that pious bastard's no match for her anyway." Varric snarled between his teeth, the thought of Sebastian's forces steamrolling into Kirkwall the absolute last thing he wanted to become reality.

"What about you, Varric? Things doing okay?"

"Sigh... Well, Bartrand has his lucid moments. My brother's all apologetic now, saying he wished he hadn't locked us in. I can't tell if he's lying or not, but I'll take what I can get. The things I do for family... What about you? Been predicting fortunes for passer-bys?" Varric mumbled out, the subject of Bartrand still somewhat sore for him. '_I guess he did ask, albeit for a general synopsis. Well, shit... Why did I tell him about sodding Bartrand then?_' he mentally cursed himself for that slip-up.

"Just... waiting. Sat outside Haven for about two weeks, watching people go about their day... Don't know how the messenger found me, but there you go. Before I knew it, I had a front row seat to the mad house courtesy of the Divine." Lucas told him earnestly, eye contact with the dwarf established at all times.

"Well, that's... creepy." Varric remarked dryly.

"Yeah, it was a... weird experience. The last time I visited here, this place was full up on crazy. Now, it's just... normal. No weird shit, no insane people, nothing out of the ordinary."

"The Cult of Andraste? Those crazy bastards?" Varric responded.

"Yep, the very same ones... Wonder if any of them are still out there."

"I doubt they'd be crazy to poke their heads up right now. Probably gone to ground by now..."

"Let's hope so. We have enough to deal with as it is." Lucas wistfully responded, wondering if they were truly gone. Despite Kolgrim's death, Lucas wasn't entirely sure about the nature of the cult's status, the games having made them a 'take them then leave them' kind of deal. In this real-esque world, nothing could be taken at face value. Lucas learned that the hard way and he certainly wasn't keen to be caught like that again. Varric and Lucas continued to march along the path, boots kicking up dust and sand at regular intervals, coating their shoes and the cuffs on their pants with grains of nature. They only paused to rest when necessary, not wanting to waste more time for the enemy to regroup or for chaos to continue to spread.

**I'll see about getting a little bit more action into the next chapter, since all talk can get tiring after some time. Until then, have a good holiday and a Happy New Year!**


	4. A Gathering Of Like Minds

**CHAPTER 4: A GATHERING OF LIKE MINDS**

**So, as the title suggests, this will focus more on the gathering of the remaining key members of the Inquisition and some of their interactions with Lucas. I was tempted to simply bypass most of it with a simple, 'And then they all got together.' sentence but I figure establishing a starting point of their relationships with Lucas would make things seem more personal and perhaps open up some interaction chapters in between the larger story arc. Alright, enough chit-chat... Thanks again for the support shown thus far as it means a lot to me. Now then, on with the show!**

**FLASHBACK (DENERIM)**

Celebrations aplenty in the castle meant to house Ferelden's King. And they had good reason to celebrate. The darkspawn had been defeated, broken after the demise of the Archdemon by the Grey Wardens, now the most celebrated order in the nation at this very moment. Various people were gathered in the hall, busy drinking, gossiping and basically having a merry time after a long and arduous fight. Amidst all that, Lucas was looking upon the procession with both a sense of joy, disappointment and worry. '_I should be happy. I survived one entire year in the company of people who dare to seek danger at every turn. And yet... sigh... I'm no closer to going home and another crisis is just around the corner. How can I celebrate with that stuck in my head?_' His mind was completely clouded over concerns of the future, too mired to see to the present, so much so that he didn't notice a familiar redhead sneak up right behind him and cover his eyes with her hands.

"Guess who?" Leliana giggled, her hands moving along with her laughter, small fragments of light piercing the dark veil she had him under from time to time.

"Do I get a prize for guessing?" he replied snarkily.

"That depends on your answer." She cooed back, hands tenderly still wrapped around Lucas' brown eyes.

"Let me think... a smart, beautiful woman I can't believe I'm in love with?" Lucas answered with a grin. He could hear Leliana shift her hands behind him, allowing him to spin around and actually lay eyes on her. '_Holy... moly..._' His eyes went wide. Leliana was draped in a form fitting dress of gold and light red, embroidered by what he guessed were top-class craftsman. Her hair was slightly longer than usual, something Lucas had no problem with. He couldn't believe he was actually dating someone as hot as Leliana, his mind almost convinced that it was a dream of some sort.

"Close enough." Leliana made even dreams come true as she leaned in, passionately kissing Lucas full on the lips, drawing a few whistles from the crowd. Lucas was dumbstruck, but resigned himself to simply enjoying the moment. As fast as it came on, so too did it feel like it escaped so quickly, the sensation leaving as they parted. Leliana was flush, her cheeks a blooming red, until she saw Lucas give a weak smile, uncharacteristic of someone who just got the kiss of their lives.

"Why so glum? It's a celebration."

"Yeah, just... thinking about the future..." Lucas quickly amended that statement when he saw Leliana look at him with a frown. "No, that's not what I meant. I meant about what comes next." He heard her breathe a sigh of relief. '_Oh, thank god I don't have to be on the receiving end of her bow._'

"Do you have to worry about that now? Come on. At least have something to drink." Leliana said as she handed him a jug filled to brimming with dwarven ale, foam spilling over the mouth of the cup onto her hand.

"What the hell? There's always tomorrow..." Lucas sighed, gamely taking the offered drink and downing it, gulping it down in three quick gulps, each one taking a long ride down his throat, the taste of wheat permeating his senses into overload. As soon as he was done, he took the empty jug away from his lips, coughing slightly from the taste.

"That's the spirit!" With a skip in her step, Leliana sauntered off to talk with the others, brooking one last happy smile to Lucas before she disappeared into the crowd. With renewed purpose, he too walked around, greeting various dignitaries, nobles and ambassadors with a happy expression, reserving his less than pleasant frown for those he was told were duplicitous in aggravating the civil unrest. None of them dared to openly speak out, with so many people against the very things they believed in. Just as Lucas was finished speaking to a dignitary from Highever, Lucas saw Alistair approach, looking very dapper in his coronation armour, a shining beacon of pure white and gold-yellow for them. The padding clanked with each step he took, announcing his presence to one and all to hear, which made him blush with embrassment to no particular end.

"Lucas."

"King Alistair. How does it feel?" Lucas spun about, shaking Alistair's hand and putting on a jovial mood, even if he was inclined to simply be moody about the whole affair.

"Like I just drew the short straw on some weird party game that hasn't ended... No, it's just... a lot to get used to, being married and running an entire nation." Alistair joked, scratching his head at the mere thought of continuing to be king. '_He must be nervous. Wouldn't blame him... Putting all that power in anyone's hands would be an overload._' Lucas considered.

"Look on the bright side. Now you get to boss us around. That'll be fun."

"Can't wait... So, I heard that you'll be leaving soon. May I ask where?" Alistair sarcastically showed his enthusiasm.

"Free Marches, Kirkwall. Duty calls, I guess." Lucas replied, unsure if continuing the course would benefit him any further.

"You said your goodbyes?" At Alistair's query, Lucas took one quick glance around the entire hall. All of his companions, the ones he had been fighting besides for the better part of a year. They were still here, waiting to be seen for what might be the last time. He had never expected much and yet felt all the richer simply by being with them. How could he simply abandon them, leave them to think that he did not care about them at all? The thought drove his mind closer to memories of home, of times before his ill-advised wish had been granted.

"I guess I owe them that much." Lucas finally responded, a tear welling up in his left eye. '_Damn it... I don't want to... But I can't just go... without saying goodbye._' His thoughts mirrored his tear-jerking nature.

"Well, if you need any assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Alistair." Lucas choked out

"Enjoy the celebrations, Seer." Alistair smiled, patting Lucas' shoulder gently before he left to discuss politics with Arl Eamon and Anora. Wiping his tears away, Lucas went to say his farewalls, first to Sten, then Zevran and then Aedan. The Warden in particular was a little taken aback by Lucas' desire to leave, having once pegged him for the type to stay in a place that he felt comfortable in. Still, Aedan and his brother Fergus bid him good luck, promising to aid him whenever he called on them. Bidding them goodbye, Lucas went to look for the others, easily locating Oghren by huge kegs of alcohol stacked high, taps giving free access to anyone who wished for it. The dwarf was rocking back and forth in classic drunken fashion, his beard stained with the stench of beer and several crumbs from whatever he was eating last. Despite this rather unpleasant outlook, many stayed for his antics and his sometimes blue jokes. As he saw Lucas march forward, Oghren drunkenly stumbled over his feet, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Hey, Lucas!" He slurred, barely able to pull himself off the ground without someone to keep him upright. Luckily, there were still some soldiers who haven't been repulsed by Oghren's less than suitable manners that came to the rescue, propping him up on their shoulders until he could stand on his own two feet, relatively speaking.

"Still trying to drink yourself under the table, Oghren?" His eyebrow raised a level, his mouth soon following shortly afterwards.

"Hah! That...hic... is impossible! That guy, what's his name...? Teagen? Idiot challenged that he could drink more than me! We'll see about that soon enough, once he's busy making friends with the nobles." The dwarven warrior boasted, swinging around his mug in a sweeping arc, still high on victory and booze.

"The king's made me commander of his armies, the sodding bastard! I admire... hic... the brass balls he's gotten. Ain't complainin. Need something to keep Felsi and the baby up and running." Oghren burped loudly to finish off the statement, the smell of ale permeating the immediate environs surrounding him. Lucas pinched his nose to counter the smell, waving his hand to ward off bad smells. Oghren thought little of it, shrugging once then going back to drinking his mug until the very last drop plinked onto his lips.

"Never change, Oghren... I'll see you around." Lucas meekly waved to him, thinking that Oghren will last whatever amount of alcohol he chooses to consume in the future.

"Be seeing you." Oghren hiccupped, clanking his mug on a round table, Lucas seeing him take another large swig before he too vanished amidst the crowd now gathering to watch his general antics.

"I do feel out of place here. So much excitement, it makes these old bones tingle with pride that we've made it." Wynne remarked, her eyes occasionally looking at the souls gathered in the room.

"All thanks to our illustrious leader." Lucas' eyes trailed towards Aedan Cousland with his brother Fergus chatting with the newly minted King Alistair and Queen Anora. Wynne's own eyes also followed suit, equally taking notice of Lucas' words as his lips moved.

"I think you give too much credit to Aedan, Lucas. You did your part, however small you may assume it to be." Wynne said.

"I wish I did more, Wynne." His head hung low in shame.

"If the Maker wills it, then we should simply follow along with his plan. Questioning it is to lose faith and faith is something people need right now. You did more than enough, young man. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise." She patted the young man's shoulders, still fixing her motherly smile on him.

"So, I guess you've heard that..."

"I did. I wish you safe travels, young man. I do not envy the path you walk, but I hope you do well, for all our sakes."

"Thanks, Wynne."

"Now go, young man. Enjoy this time while you can." Wynne said. Lucas was about to leave, melt back into the crowd when he realized he would never see Wynne again. He wasn't going to follow Aedan on his journey to becoming Warden-Commander, thus denying him the chance to see Wynne in Amaranthine. With that mulling in his head, he felt obliged to at least share one last secret, one last gift for Wynne.

"Wynne? This may be... the last time we see each other. I just wanted to tell you it'll be worth it. You won't regret it." It took all his nerve to tell her, to spit out even an implicit answer as to her ultimate fate. He looked at her guiltily, wanting to desperately help her escape her fate. '_I can't... I can't risk changing things..._' So depressed till he looked down at his twitching feet momentarily, Lucas finally looked up only to see Wynne smile just as warmly as she always did, seemingly at peace with the knowledge she was given.

"Goodbye, Lucas." That was the last few words Wynne would ever speak to Lucas again. Just as he predicted, Wynne later sacrificed her life for the life of her son's lover, the spirit taking Evangeline's place and allowing Wynne a few final words to say goodbye to her son Rhys. In those final moments, she was reminded of Lucas' words and cherished them just as much, her eyes starting to flicker and fade in and out of existence. '_I do not regret it. Thank you, Lucas._' She finally recalled, the only regret she would carry into the afterlife was the knowledge that she couldn't fulfil the young man's only wish. Lucas would never know, only left with a sense of overwhelming guilt seeping into every part of his soul.

**PRESENT DAY, HINTERLANDS**

"Varric, to your left!" Lucas yelled out at the top of his lungs, tossing his dagger right at an approaching bandit trying to sneak up behind the rogue. The blade clanged harmlessly against the helm the thug was wearing, doing little but stun him by the useless attack. However it was enough of a window for Varric to wheel around, crossbow in hand and plant a bevy of bolts right into his chest, affixing the lifeless corpse to one of the trees. Varric barely had time to silently mouth a word of thanks before they were back in the thick of it, each combatant having to deal with one or two enemies at a time.

"Hold your ground! Give them no quarter!" Another voice echoed in the distance. Fighting alongside two raw recruits was their mission, the warden known as Blackwall or as Lucas knew, the man trying to be anything else but Thom Rainier, killer of innocents. He had an overly long beard, strands of hair immaculately woven into a beard with few strands out of place, his large greatsword swinging its might across the battlefield. Screaming an order to the recruits, both of them dashed off to alert their camp of the bandits' presence. One of the bandits tried to be smart, nocking an arrow in his longbow. Blackwall heard the bow twang, signalling an incoming projectile. He hit the deck to avoid the speeding stick of death, his sword eager to exact fair recompense for the slight against him. He charged forward, hands gripped around the hilt of the greatsword, several inches long worth of steel barrelling down on the archer.

The archer panicked, throwing down a smoke bomb in an attempt to deceive the warrior's vision and most notably, slip away scot free. The spherical object shattered into fragments when it hit the ground, a plume of smoke dissipating in all directions, enveloping the whole battlefield with the peerless fog. And yet, before the archer could try and flee, a shadow charged forth heedless of the smoke and with a rallying cry, thrust the great-sword right into the archer's smoky shape, the blade going through his stomach, the last thing the archer saw before dying was the wide blade poking out from his abdomen, blood and guts starting to seep through the gaps between blade and blade writhed out of the hole in his chest as fast as it had arrived, the smoke clearing up just as the body hit the ground, landing with a sickening thud, longbow clattering harmlessly on a bed of leaves.

Meanwhile, Varric was thrusting his crossbow into a bandit's face as he tried to get closer, the man promptly somersaulting backwards to avoid the large bayonet stuck on the bottom. Lucas had nothing to defend himself with and it quickly devolved into fisticuffs against a bandit wielding dual longswords. '_Shit, I can't get more than two hits at a time on this guy!_' Lucas cursed mentally, striking the man with a measly one-two punch before he had to duck to avoid the bandit's sweeping arc, the rush of air caused by the iron blades palpable on his face.

"Varric, hand me a bolt!" Lucas bellowed. Varric heard him loud and clear, reaching into Bianca's magazine and pulling out a standard bolt in his hand. With a stiff grunt, he lobbed the lethal stick straight into Lucas' hands, a wide grin entering his features. "Now let's play..." He mocked his opponent. As the man lunged forward with both blades, Lucas sidestepped the attack in the nick of time. He raised his hand over his head and brought it crashing down, stabbing the bandit in the knee with the crossbow bolt. The bandit howled in agony, stumbling over and falling flat on his face from extreme pain. Lucas didn't even give him a chance to tend to this wound before he followed up with a turning kick right in his screaming face, knocking out the bandit cold.

Varric ducked down with a low grunt as one of his attackers swung his axe at about half his height, the weapon slamming straight into a nearby tree. The blade stuck deep in the bark, splinters of the wood tossed all across the clearing floor. His friend gamely took the mantle of being a thorn in Varric's side while he busied himself with yanking the axe out. Varric tussled with the other bandit, deftly dodging the quick strikes he was trying to pull on him. After the fifth one, the bandit winded up for a power attack, granting the dwarf an opportunity to prime a bolt and fire it, piercing the palm of his dominant hand, the pain causing him to let his weapon drop like a sack of potatoes on the ground. Still carrying one sword in his other hand, the bandit angrily lashed out at Varric, his swipes filled with nothing but pent-up anger. With no technique behind it, Varric was able to easily dodge his flailing strikes and pin him to the tree by his other hand with a well-timed bolt, leaving the bandit to curse pointlessly at Varric.

However, enough time had been bought for his axe-wielding friend and he brought down the heavy metal battle-axe down upon Varric's head. Varric jumped out of the way, watching as several pounds of metal landed with a thud on the ground, the weapon vibrating in the bandit's hands. Blackwall raced to meet his new opponent, his great-sword parrying against the bandit's battleaxe with several sparks erupting at the point of contact. Lucas quickly raced over there as well, picking up his dagger as he went along. Sensing an opportunity, he signalled to Blackwall to keep him busy, sprinting to close the distance. The senior warden spun his sword in a wide circle, the bandit stepping back to avoid the death trap. From behind, Lucas tripped him over with his outstretched hand before following up with a quick blow on the fallen bandit before he could rise again. The dagger dove deep into his chest and the bandit yelled one last time before his struggling hands fell limp onto the ground and he at last remained silent.

"Huff... Owww..." Lucas rose from his kneeling position, feeling his body start to catch up to the burst of energy he had just expended during the fight. It was as if a wave of exhaustion had passed through his body all at once, without the adrenaline to stave off its eventual passing.

"That was a ballsy move there, stranger." Blackwall offered his hand to Lucas, one he gamely took as the man dragged him up to his feet. Varric was going around the battlefield, picking up whatever bolts were still salvageable. The bandit he had pinned to the tree only gave a fleeting glimpse of fear at Varric after he pulled the bolts out from his hands before fleeing for the hills, not wanting to end up like his fallen comrades.

"Thanks. Oww..."

"You Warden Blackwall?" Varric decided to do the talking, while Lucas looked around, rummaging through the bandits' supplies to see what they had to offer. His fingers ran over the bulging pockets, no doubt fat with the spoils of others from their more successful ventures. '_Ugh, after all these years of looting stuff off dead things, you'd think I would get used to this..._' He spoke with clear revolt as he relieved them of their coin purses first before moving onto to look for other valuables or items worth using or selling.

"Aye. Who's asking?"

"Varric Tethras, at your service. My friend here is Lucas, the Maker's Seer. We're with the Inquisition. We have some questions for you." Varric extended his hand to Blackwall, who took it with a wary look etched on his bearded face.

"Oh? And what are they exactly?" He said plainly.

"All the Wardens have disappeared off the face of the earth, except for you. Do you know where your order is?"

"Can't say... I've been by myself for the past nine months now. News doesn't reach my ears as fast as I'd like." Blackwall answered with a pause or two, looking somewhat nervous when he replied. '_Oh, come on. You managed to lay low for months. Certainly you've learned to lie by now._' Lucas felt disappointed by Blackwall's performance, which was somehow worse than in the game. '_Maybe he's scared because of me..._' he thought, noting that Blackwall's eyes tended to shift more to him than Varric.

"Well, that was a waste of time." The dwarf sardonically quipped, nodding thanks to Blackwall and motioning to Lucas to get ready to move on. Blackwall's next words stopped them both before they did anything else.

"Wait... If what you say is true, then there is no one left to keep order. I've heard of the Inquisition and what it stands for. If you would have me, I would gladly join the Inquisition."

"Don't you have an obligation to the Wardens, seeing as how you're in service to them for life?" Varric looked at Blackwall funny, wondering why he was so eager to go along with their merry band of heretics and traitors.

"Wardens restore order where they can. Helping the Inquisition does that."

"Welcome aboard then, buddy." He said, both of them shaking on the matter.

"It is much appreciated." Blackwall said, moving over to look over Lucas, who was continuing to deal with a constant stream of pain.

"Are you alright?" he said, voice concerned over his new companion's injury.

"Yeah... I think I sprained my arm with that manoeuvre. Just give me a bit." Lucas winced, his eyes pinching shut as he tenderly held onto his wounded arm with his free hand, breathing in and out with each sharp intake of pain shooting through his nerves.

"We'll have to make camp anyway. It's getting dark." Blackwall looked up into the sky, already starting to turn a deep shade of midnight blue with twinkling stars dotting the landscape. In no time flat, the three of them cleared out the bodies and laid them out far away from the clearing, pitched up their tents for the night and got a fire going to cook some of the leftover ram meat that the Hinterlands refugees were all too kind to offer as recompense for their aid. After a hearty meal in which the trio swapped stories and news about current affairs, they all retired for the night and slept soundly, though Lucas decided to write in his journal for the first time since the Conclave incident.

_Year 10, maybe the twelfth month or was it the eleventh? It doesn't matter. Time passes by so fast these days I barely keep track._

_ So, the Conclave blew up into pieces. Can't say I didn't see that coming. I've got the Anchor on me now..._

Lucas paused in writing just to look down at his glowing hand, concentrating to bring the mark to full form. In the green glow, he could see that the mark was far from incomplete, certain lines simply stopping for no apparent reason.

_By the looks of it, it's only half of the puzzle. Means closing rifts requires the both of us. Or maybe it's just the Breach. Solas wouldn't have been to close the rift with only Maxwell otherwise. Don't know what to make of him. The man is a kind enough soul, caring about most things and more than happy for types inquisitive enough to ask questions. But the spirit known as the Dread Wolf? Legends are nothing more than stories told by people, true or not. No-one back home knows the truth of Solas, save for Bioware. File that under things to worry about later._

_ Varric was a nice treat to get back to, someone I could talk to casually, feel like myself for a bit. It's nice to have someone who doesn't look at me like some bloody messiah figure. Seems to be writing something new, considering how he was lost in thought the other day. Just hope it's not a piece about me._

_ Blackwall signed up today. Sorry... Thom Rainier would be more appropriate. He doesn't seem to lie very well. I was actually worried that Varric might not have taken him at face value. He knows I know, that much is clear. I just need to figure out how to play this. Josephine will be pissed down the line though..._

_ Can't believe I'm on the road again. Putting my nose in another crisis. Sometimes I wonder if I could just slip away, find some way back home. Sigh... I dare not ask. I've been turned down twice so far. I doubt he would be inclined to agree where they wouldn't. And Leliana... Yeah, that's it for this entry. I don't have the heart to write anymore._

Lucas closed his journal and stuffed it in his bag, imbuing the seals Wynne helped him create to keep people from prying into his personal thoughts. There were times Leliana was tempted to read it, Lucas watching under the guise of sleep. Every time however, she would look at him and then lose heart, tossing aside the plan and going back to her daily routine. He thought of her as he slept, the dream more pleasant than the nightmares he had during his stint outside Haven.

**Val Royeaux**

A week had passed by in a flash. Maxwell and Solas had returned with news of Redcliffe, where a magister from Tevinter named Alexius had arrived to aid the rebel mages apparently and were open to negotiations with Maxwell. However, his former protégé Dorian Pavus and his son Felix were concerned that he was in league with a group known as the Venatori, a band of mages with a vested interest in Maxwell. In that same time frame, Maxwell also received a request from Iron Bull, leader of a band of mercenaries called the Chargers to join the Inquisition.

Bull had told Maxwell of his allegiance with the Ben-Hassrath, secret police for the Qunari. Naturally that came with a steady amount of suspicion amongst the others, despite assurances that both sides would mutually benefit from this arrangement. Maxwell wanted to deal with two more incidents before he weighed in on the mages vs templars debate that has engulfed most meetings at the war table. Right now, he and Lucas were on their way to meet with Madame De Fer, Iron Lady and senior Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle, who had sent an invitation for the both of them to attend her party.

"I hate Orlesian parties. So much excess and deception all in such a claustrophobic place..." Lucas grumbled as they walked past the marketplace, now back to its bustling heights with shoppers eagerly crowding around certain stores to see the latest vogue thing in fashion or food.

"I take it you're not a fan of the Game?" Maxwell noted his companion's hatred starting to show on his face.

"Definitely... The fact that they call it a game demeans just how much damage these scuffles cause, not just amongst the nobles but also amongst the general populace. Go at it if you must, but don't trivialize something that affects so many people." Lucas answered with a long-winded question, ranting about his opinion on the matter.

"I see. And you fell in love with our spymaster?" Maxwell responded incredulously, Lucas' affection for an experienced player of the Game seemingly at odds with his stance on the matter.

"Back when I met her, she was a charmer. She could walk into a room and dazzle you. She always tried to find a way to keep people alive, in her own special way. Yes, she was a participant in the Game but I always looked past it because her actions spoke more about her. And now... Sigh... I can't even recognize her anymore." Lucas' face spelled something akin to depression, his eyes drooped in sadness and his shoulders slumping like the world was about to end.

"You plan to play?" The inevitable question popped up, like a target in a shooting gallery. And just like that, eventually the target was shot down almost as quick as it came up.

"Not unless I have to. I wasn't much for the noble life to be honest." Maxwell admitted, taking the steps two at a time.

"That makes two of us." Lucas grumbled again as they reached the large golden doors leading into the grand palace. Flanked by two personal guards decked in armour with sides so reflective that they almost blinded the duo, it was certainly a good first impression.

"After you, Herald..." Lucas joked, both hands pointing towards the door. Maxwell stepped right past him with a chuckle, the Seer following suit behind him. If outside was already quite interesting, inside offered a more glamorous look. The entire room was nearly encased in pearl-white marble adorned with various gold items, an apparently common style in Orlesian nobility. The only other colour in the room not being worn by the varying masquerade attending guests was a carpet of deep blue laid over the steps and the floor.

"Well, you can't say that she hasn't pulled out all the stops." Lucas whistled loudly to indicate his respect for the grandness of it all, despite the sense of excess surrounding the whole thing.

"Welcome to the world of nobility, Lucas. Where everything gleans with a polished shine and grime is right beneath the surface." Maxwell chuckled at Lucas' awe-struck expression, gracefully accepting a glass of fine wine from one of the attending waiters

"Did you hear that about Gaspard's son? Can you imagine?" The woman told her compatriot in hushed whispers.

"I knew that family was horrible. Necromancy? How utterly deplorable!" The man nodded his head in agreement.

"I heard they have tea with rotting corpses!"

"I would pay to see that." Lucas jested, thoughts turning to the whimpering noble that Hawke let walk free after Aveline had a little chit-chat with her. Hearing him chuckle, the two gossiping nobles turned to meet them face-to-face, immediately getting that wide-eyed look behind their masks that they were both familiar with.

"The Herald of Andraste!"

"And the Maker's Seer! Our sincerest apologies! We did not know that you both were in attendance."

"I'm looking for Madame De Fer, the host of this fine evening." Maxwell asked them.

"The Iron Lady? She is..." The man was about to finish, when a noble to the right of Lucas cleared his throat, all of their heads collectively spinning to see what all the commotion was about.

"Did I hear correct? The Herald of Andraste? Leader of a bunch of traitors and the one who caused the sky to spit out demons?"

"You've been listening to the wrong people, my friend." Maxwell replied with conviction, standing his ground where lesser men would have fled.

"I've never been more clearer in my whole life, Herald. Now d... Ooofff!" The noble had his hand to his holster, ready to draw his blade when Lucas quickly walked up to him and kneed him hard in his family jewels, causing the offending man to keel over in immense pain, his hands clutching his wounded balls and his pride as he whimpered like a baby in the foetal position. Maxwell looked aghast at Lucas, all eyes in the room looking scandalously at this show of force.

"He was done talking." Lucas responded to Maxwell's shocked look, looking down upon the whimpering noble.

"My, my... What rude manners you have, Seer. That was most uncalled for." A cool female voice echoed from the top of the stairs. Both Maxwell and Lucas turned to look at the source of the voice, seeing a dark-skinned female with a silver and black mask covering half her face and her bald head. She was dressed in white mage robes that billowed along with the wind, encrusted with various gems of high-quality. The way she carried herself all but demanded respect from her peers, one Lucas was doubtful he would offer, considering what he knew about her.

"Eh, you were going to freeze him anyway." Lucas merely shrugged his shoulders, hiding whatever fear he had bottled up in him.

"Hmmm...I suppose this was much more entertaining."

"Madame De Fer, I presume." Maxwell said to their host.

"You presume correct, Herald. Come, walk with me." Vivienne led them away from the party into a more secluded hallway with less prying eyes and ears, with Vivienne and Maxwell standing nearby a glass window while Lucas leaned against the wall opposite them, arms folded across one another.

** "**I do apologize for our guests, my dear. Tensions are high in Orlais, what with the end of the world and the civil wars happening."

"I was unaware there was more than one civil war." Maxwell replied with a confused look on his face.

"Empress Celene and Duke Gaspard De Chalons are vying for dominance over who gets to rule over Orlais or rather who deserves to rule. In other words, just another day in the city of excess..." Lucas explained for Vivienne before she could, doing so in a condescending manner that she did not care for, judging by the frown she was giving him.

"My circle is one of the few that did not want this. But most of the mages voted to remain independent of the Chantry and the Templars, thus condemning all mages by association to vilification and loathing. I would much like to see order restored as soon as possible."

"You're proposing an alliance?"

"In addition to the knowledge the Montsimmard Circle possesses, I will offer my services to the Inquisition." Vivienne laid out the terms of the alliance rather plainly, no hint of deception in her voice. 'Sounds too good to be true, but the Inquisition could really use the help.' Maxwell considered, leaning to accepting her proposal. However, seeing as Lucas was around, he wanted to get a second opinion on the matter, just to be safe.

"Want to weigh in here, Lucas?" Maxwell tilted his head in Lucas' direction, signalling to him.

"I'm not arguing the benefits. It'll be a boon for us. But I'm worried." Lucas made his opinion heard in the bluntest way possible.

"About what exactly, Seer?" Vivienne made the question seem very accusatory when she repeated it.

"Whether ambition is secondary... or primary to you..."

"Order is what is most important. And in order to do so, you need power, my dear." Vivienne coolly replied, the duo getting into a staring contest.

"There's a saying amongst Seers, a rather common one too. Power corrupts absolutely." Lucas answered with a rather sarcastic laugh.

"Then what is your solution, my dear? Have us plunge into chaos simply because we're too afraid to wield power?" Vivienne responded with a dry sense of humour.

"You're looking for an answer to a question that has no answer." Lucas darkly responded, eyes glinting with annoyance at Vivienne's beliefs. Seeing the duo look about ready to launch into a heated debate, Maxwell moved to quickly quell the fire, at least for the time being.

"I accept your proposal, Madame De Fer. The Inquisition would be honoured to have you."

"Please, call me Vivienne, my dear." Vivienne wore back her kindly expression for Maxwell, only a twitch in her eye the only indication of her annoyance with his travelling companion.

"I look forward to discussing the matter in more detail, Seer." Vivienne stared at Lucas with a concealed glare, hidden by a mask that looked almost sweet. Lucas to his credit did his best to mirror her, though to a lesser degree. '_Great, I've pissed someone else off. Well, I can at least respect the fact that she handled that conversation a lot more calmly than most other people..._' Lucas conceded some bright spots to having Vivienne around. Vivienne then left Lucas and Maxwell to themselves, rejoining her guests in the merriment.

"You really believe that?" Maxwell looked at Lucas with a grudging respect. From what he had heard, few dared to cross the Iron Lady directly. That he did so was already a feat of nerves and will to Maxwell.

"It doesn't matter what I believe these days, Maxwell."

"Hey, Lucas? I know this was tough, but I really appreciate the input." He said, brooking a short and simple smile to Lucas.

"Just be careful, Maxwell. Whatever Free Marches politics are, Orlesian politics are ten times worse." Lucas offered sagely advice based on his last sojourn into that world, still wondering if he would have survived without Leliana's help.

"I will. Don't worry about that." And with that, the two walked back outside into the city proper and made their way back to meet up with their companions Iron Bull and Solas, who had just finished chasing the paper trail their 'friend' left them, pointing them in the direction of the docks at night. In his mind, Lucas could see the Inquisition starting to take proper form, all but ready to move on either the Templars or the Mages for much needed support. '_It's not in the script... but maybe... It could work, with two of us now. And those rifts in Redcliffe Castle should be no problem even without Maxwell._' Lucas recalled whatever he could as they went to meet Sera, already expecting quite a show from the elven archer.

**I'm starting to get into a groove with my writing. The next few updates might be a little more spaced out since holidays are coming to an end and I need to get back to studying soon. Until next time then, have yourselves a fantastic new year!**


	5. On Two Fronts

**CHAPTER 5: ON TWO FRONTS**

**Hello everyone! Welcome to chapter 5! This chapter will be mostly conversations with certain members of the Inquisition, a war table meeting regarding the mages and templars and perhaps a small amount of fun for Leliana and Lucas. Fair warning, this might delve into... explicit stuff, so if you're not into that, feel free to go ahead and skip it. Alright then, on with the show!**

_Morrigan_

_Morrigan was a tricky one to deal with, considering I hadn't met the woman proper until after Ostagar, just as they were about to leave the Korcari Wilds. She was quite skeptical of my cover story back then and she was one of the first to call the truth as nothing more than a fabrication. It was only when evidence came to light that she began to see and that almost certainly derailed both our plans, she afraid of my foreknowledge and I afraid of what she would do to protect her true intentions from ever seeing the light of day. When I saw her leaving Denerim soon after the battle to end the Fifth Blight, I told that she would one day have to choose between her ideals of preserving the ancient artifacts and magics of the past and the son she had borne because of that ideal._

_Of course, this being Morrigan, she took my words as a joke and said that I didn't understand what she was doing. The next time I saw here near her eluvian, she seemed morose or perhaps humbled. After the Warden had made his choice to follow her into the Crossroads, I asked to speak with Morrigan one last time. That calm demeanour crumbled before me and I saw her fear, fear that her mother Flemeth will come to take her or even her son. I had a few choice words to offer her as well as advice. 'You can't have everything, Morrigan.' Were the words I remembered saying. The Warden looked about ready to kill me for talking badly about his love, but Morrigan apparently stayed his hand and motioned to leave with her. That was the last time I ever saw them both._

_As of now, I suspect she is currying favour with Empress Celene and doing her best to keep her son safe from Flemeth's machinations. I've written twice now to remind her that the time to choose will come. Both times, no reply came back. Ah, well. When we meet again, I suspect I will force her hand, willing or not._

_Excerpt from Lucas' journal._

**Inquisition Headquarters, Haven**

With news of rising support garnered by the various companions they had gathered along the way, the Inquisition was starting to resemble a force to be reckoned with. Every day, more and more troops were training on the outskirts of the village walls, practicing manoeuvres with Cassandra and Cullen leading their training regimens, occasionally getting pointers from Blackwall and Iron Bull regarding their unique battle styles. The blacksmiths were working overtime to keep the army stocked with quality weapons and armour, the clank of steel and the hissing of hot metal a common sound near the tavern. Equally hard at work was their herbalist, busy crafting poultices and potions to aid not only their army but also the wounded refugees still in need of assistance. Lucas watched all of this and thought a little morosely about the fact that it will soon be nothing but charred ash and burning wood.

'_Well, at least Cullen took my words to heart._' Lucas thought, duly noticing the planks of steel over the roofs of the rickety wooden huts, giving some protection against fire. Cullen was tempted to ask what was going to hit them and it took some convincing on Lucas' part to keep that information safe and sound. '_They can't be completely ready. With any luck, this will save a few more lives._'

Talk of approaching the mages or the templars was reaching a high point, the advisors making every effort to call this matter to attention. Lucas was asked to attend tomorrow's meeting, advise them on their best course of action. He chose to enjoy today, allow himself a moment of relaxation before the storm came tumbling over. As he walked around, he saw Sera happily singing her way into the tavern, skipping with each five steps she took. Lucas followed her inside, almost immediately getting hit with a fresh smell of ale and beer engulfing his senses. The tavern was one of the smaller ones he had come across, his tall physique almost hitting the frame of the door on the way in. Chairs and tables dotted the room, a cosy fire sitting by the side, giving it a warm and inviting feeling that Lucas approved of.

Several patrons were cheering, singing and basically doing anything to escape the harsh winter and reality just waiting outside. '_No wonder Sera likes to be here..._' He thought to himself, taking a seat opposite the erstwhile ally.

"Hey, Sera..." Lucas greeted the female archer as he snugly laid back in his wooden chair, resting his feet on the table. He wasn't much for manners, preferring bluntness and being direct to dancing around the issue, a trait that he knew Cassandra would no doubt approve of.

"Hey, you... What's going on?" Sera's face gave a wicked yet funny expression off, her hands on the wooden table.

"Nothing much really... I saw you skipping on your way in. Who did you prank this time?" Lucas playfully bantered, knowing that Sera wouldn't feel like she was being grilled for information if he adopted a tone she was comfortable with.

"I thought you'd know, being a Seer and all that." Sera looked at Lucas puzzlingly, the statement having an adverse effect to what was intended.

"Not everything, Sera. Not everything."

"Don't worry your prickly little bum about it. It's not you... or Leliana for that matter." Sera pouted, worried that he might spoil her fun.

"Josie?" Lucas gave a knowing look, Sera immediately springing up and pointing rabidly at Lucas.

"How'd you know?!" Sera said in a high-pitched voice, drawing the attention of the few patrons in the bar, the rest still stuck in training with Cullen.

"Because you've been pranking her non-stop for three days. It's getting old." Lucas chuckled, pointing out her predictive nature.

"Hahaha! Fair point..." Sera's laughter was quite hysterical, almost like she was inviting people to laugh along with her rather than at her. It was infectious too,

"So how's the Inquisition so far? Up to your liking?"

"It's alright, I guess. Lots of broody bits like Blackwall and Cassandra." Sera said.

"Don't know if I like Vivienne. She's a right arsehole that one." Her tone got a little sharper at Vivienne's name.

"Because she's in with the nobles?" Lucas gave her a funny look, having almost forgotten Sera's proclivity for taking down nobles a peg and show them how the average person was dealing with life.

"Exactly... Bunch of pricks that lot." Sera made a 'pfft' sound with her lips, her look beaming at finding a kindred spirit of sorts in Lucas.

"You do realize that Maxwell was a noble?" Lucas pointed out the irony of that statement, eyebrow raised to express his confusion over her statement.

"He's different. Herald's not like them." Sera countered without any effort, the answer seemingly forming before her like magic.

"Now who's making a fair point?" Lucas chuckled with a wry grin to boot, again pointing out the similarity.

"Hahaha! You're funny." This time, Sera's laughter was infectious, Lucas even joining in to laugh along with her. It took a few seconds for them to work through the giggles and even then, Lucas still found himself breathless after expending so much effort in keeping his spirits up.

"Thanks for the compliment." Lucas finally responded with a cracked voice, forcefully coughing to get it back to his usual tone. He stood up from his seat and made for the tavern door, while Sera shouted out from behind.

"See you around, Seer!"

Back into the frigid cold, Lucas gamely wrapped the wool coat around him, teeth chattering as the wind fluttered past him every minute or so. Several fires were burning bright in the midst of all the white snow, a brilliant radiance of light and heat that Lucas made a point to visit just to leech off the warmth it provided. Some of the soldiers were amicable enough that Lucas would start a conversation with them, chat about their families and what they intend to do after the Inquisition, should they choose to leave. Those with stories of being separated or lost family resonated strongly with Lucas, himself still struggling to reconcile with not seeing his family for more than a decade. '_Some days are harder than most... But seeing them again is just one more reason to keep going._' Lucas reasoned in his mind. However, seeing Leliana again after a year was also reminding him of the life still going on here. '_It would break her heart if I left, but... at the same time... Argghh... Can't think about that now... Just need to find a way home, then we can cross that bridge._' It was a dilemma he wasn't prepared to deal with.

Walking into the outskirts of Haven, Lucas could see that his compatriots were hard at work. Cassandra was busy pummelling away at some straw dummy targets with both sword and shield, the dummies over times resembling scarecrows rather than human representations made straw and wood. Her concentration clearly demonstrated that she wouldn't like being disturbed and in Lucas' mind, he still wasn't sure if Cassandra had truly forgiven him over the Lucien debacle. '_Talking to her now might be a risk. Maybe when we all get together for the meeting tomorrow, I might get a chance._' Lucas surmised. He gave a curt nod to Cassandra, one that she reciprocated briefly before going right to training. That left Blackwall, Bull and Cullen. Of the three, he had only talked with Bull briefly when he returned from recruiting Blackwall. Plus he needed to ask about something that might improve his odds of survival. Bull saw him coming a mile away, warmly greeting the Seer like an old friend.

"Hey, if it isn't our friendly Seer!" Bull said, Lucas stifling a chuckle. '_Hehe... If he knew how funny that sounds..._'

"Hey, Bull. You just sitting around?" Lucas stood, only towering over the Qunari because Bull was sitting on a ramshackle chair that didn't look like it could hold his weight.

"Boss is in with the others, trying to see what the Chargers can do while we deal with the other shit." Bull referred to Maxwell by the title he gave him.

"Tell me about it. All this waiting makes me antsy."

"Hey, so I have a question." Iron Bull locked his eyes on him as Lucas took a seat next to him on the ground, his back sitting against the hard stone wall surrounding Haven while his rear was firmly seated down on the cold flour, scraps of cut leaves sticking to Lucas' clothes.

"Shoot." Bull bluntly stated.

"You and Leliana?" Iron Bull paused, as if contemplating the next part of his question.

"What about me and Leliana?" Lucas gave a quizzical look to Bull. '_When did Bull start giving out relationship advice?_'

"I noticed you talking to her yesterday. Trouble in paradise?" Bull pointedly asked, arms folded across one another as he stared Lucas down.

"You could say that." Lucas frowned, his eyebrows furrowing to show his discomfort at the topic. Bull either didn't notice or didn't care, for he merely carried on like nothing had happened.

"Want some advice?" Bull said.

"I'll pass, thanks. How goes the espionage?"

"Information gathering... Don't make me sound like a shady guy. I'm honest about who I am." Bull corrected him with a rather stern look, though Lucas couldn't tell whether that was the case, what with the horns more or less obscuring any proper facial indicators he was used to picking up on.

"Haha... Wouldn't dream of it, buddy..." Lucas replied in a meek tone, scared witless by his companion's death stare look. It was even a surprise to Lucas when he even dared ask about something else moments later.

"Hey, about that training..." Iron Bull's mind took a few seconds before he understood what Lucas was asking about. '_Must be about that weapon training he asked about. Kinda weird, considering he's been trained as a rogue far as I can tell..._' the Qunari mused suspiciously. On the downside, this might be a ruse of some kind being plied by Lucas. After all, he is in a relationship with an accomplished spymaster and that was enough to raise some alarm bells. On the upside, Bull might be able to use Lucas as an information leak for certain secrets Maxwell has labelled off-limits, details Bull is sure the Qunari would like.

"I'll see if I can do something about it." Iron Bull eventually considered, the good outweighing the bad in this case. Lucas, having held his breath for some time finally let it all out with a sigh of relief. He held his hand to his chest to watch his breath, standing up to thank Bull properly with a handshake.

"Thanks, Bull. See you later." Bull only nodded at Lucas' gratitude, acknowledging it as the Seer left the outer areas of Haven to go back inside, his eyes now moving to the Chargers as they toiled away under Krem, practicing their skills to keep from getting rusty. '_Should be interesting to see Lucas train like this..._' Bull pondered, just wondering what exactly he signed up for. Filing it in his mental landscape, Bull grunted and rose from his chair. '_Time to go keep my skills in shape..._' Bull remarked to himself, cracking his knuckles as he sauntered towards his company, eager to spar with them.

Night-time seemed to come in so fast, so out of left-field for Lucas. One minute, he was discussing with Solas about the Fade and his many travels, the next he was fumbling in the dark to get back to the Chantry, only the light from the fires to guide him. The blizzard was quite chilly, his body starting to shake from the extreme cold. '_Brrr... Freezing my ass out here..._' his petrified mind could only consider. Lucas trudged on unabated, up until he reached the doors. Without any light to illuminate his immediate surroundings, Lucas didn't see the shadow nearby until it was too late, both parties smacking head-long into one another and falling backwards into a sheet of snow. Lucas groaned as his hand came to rub his forehead, eyes pinched in pain when he brushed his fingers over the swelling bruise.

"Oww..." Lucas groaned, rubbing his forehead several times in a circular fashion, trying to numb the dull pain.

"Lucas?" The figure replied in a familiar voice, Lucas instantly identifying the person behind it.

"Oh, Leliana... Sorry about that. Should have been looking instead of daydreaming..." He apologized, standing up to brush dirt and snow off his clothes.

"It's alright." She responded in turn, her own hands wiping whatever dirt was on her. The two of them barely looked at one another, too busy with cleaning themselves up. When they did make eye contact, an awkward silence echoed along with the howling wind, neither of them making a peep. '_Ten years and still we get goosebumps talking to each other..._' Lucas sighed to himself. He could not deny just how charming she was. And yet the constant doubt lingered, even after all they had been through.

"You heading inside?" Lucas finally wracked up the nerves to respond, stepping towards the open Chantry doors, bringing some literal meaning to the term '_Our doors are always open_', `the brazen cold following them in.

"Yes, I needed to give in my report for tomorrow for the others to review." Leliana tapped some written notes and sketches tucked underneath her right hand to signify this.

"I guess tomorrow is going to be a long one." He sighed, thoughts wandering to tomorrow.

"It is important, no? We should be prepared for whatever will happen, just like back in Ferelden." Leliana replied with a nod.

"Fair point..." Lucas chuckled, wryly smiling to Leliana. He paused for a moment, trying to find some way to broach the sensitive topic. "Hey, about the other day..." Lucas trailed off, morosely recalling the events.

"It's alright. I understand. You were still a little upset about my decision with Butler." Leliana answered plainly.

"It was on my mind, yes." He affirmed her assumption.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind then, Seer." Leliana gave a plain smile to her lover, stepping away to hand in her reports to the others gathered in the war room. Lucas waited outside for them to conclude their business, wanting to continue speaking, making small chat, anything to reconnect after their rather impromptu reunion. '_They say relationships take effort. And if things here are any indication, relationships matter now more than ever..._' Lucas had the rare moment of philosophical thinking there and then.

"All done?" Lucas asked her when he finally saw her walk out of the war room with a slightly exhausted look etched over her.

"Yes. Now I can relax for a while, no need to worry about anything for a few hours." Leliana responded, her hands stretching to the skies as she let her extremities run loose in the air, the stress in her bones starting to escape in droves.

"I'm probably going to go back to my room, just write up about today." Lucas pointed in the general direction of his room, making a writing motion with his free hand. The Inquisition was kind enough to give him a small room to rest in, Maxwell being set in the room opposite his. Most of the time, Lucas and Maxwell would usually start the day proper by greeting one another after getting ready, one waiting for the other if they were behind on their daily routine.

"Oh, are you sure you wouldn't like some company? Maybe I can help you write too." Leliana flirted with him, repeating events the first time she invited herself to his tent. This time, Lucas knew what he was hearing come out of Leliana's lips.

"Hehe... Definitely not lost on the subtlety this time..." Lucas wryly responded, taking charge and playfully slapping Leliana's rear once with the palm of his hand, his lover jumping up a little from the suddenness of it all. Her plump rear jiggled slightly from impact, something Leliana found quite sinful in some ways.

"Oooh! Certainly not, love." Leliana giggled, following Lucas back to his room with a lustful smile on her face throughout the whole journey. As soon as they were both inside, Lucas closed the door behind them and locked it up tight, making sure to double and triple check the locks. '_Knowing Sera or Varric, they'll be the most likely to try and pick their noses in this mess._' He surmised, looking satisfied with his handiwork. His room was far from the ideals he was accustomed to for the better part of his stay in Kirkwall, naught but basic amenities to get by. A small room was set aside to the right of the main door, a place where showers can be had using buckets of water. Again, like most things, Lucas took some time to adjust to it. A small study desk sat across from the double bed, decked with stacks of notes and papers Lucas was writing. Some books sat underneath it, tomes on various topics including history, magic, scientific discoveries and folklores. '_Can't hurt to research..._'

"Do you need to wash up, Leliana?" Lucas offered to her, his hands motioning towards the small room nearby.

"It would be nice to, no?" Leliana playfully teased, taking up Lucas' offer and sauntering off towards the shower with a wink. Whilst she was taking a long, relaxing shower, her lover took to his passion for writing, sitting down at his desk to pen out his latest entry in his journal. Under the light of a half-burnt candle and quill in hand, he began to jot down the day's events with careful thought, each word taking form in his head.

_Year 10, last few weeks of the year... Has it really been this long since I last came here? Time sure does fly when you're saving the world._

_ Tomorrow will be the day we start marching on the mages or templars' door. It was a strange and surreal feeling to watch them debate the matter, weighing their respective biases on who we can trust more. I spent that entire meeting tuning out wherever I could and coming up with an alternative solution to this mess. I wonder how many heads are going to spin when I suggest it tomorrow. I'll bet Dorian and Alexius will be surprised at first, considering they'll be expecting the Herald of Andraste to show up._

_ I don't really know where my relationship with Leliana is right now. On the one hand, we seem to still have some burning fire within us. I know I do, just taking one glance down. And yet, I know what I may face in Redcliffe if my plans come to fruition. And I worry that the version of Leliana I saw then may be the one she's turning into. If the theory of this being my 'story' is true, then Maxwell will make it right... I hope. I still can't rest until that development goes through. I've seen a few changes so far due to my presence and my meddling, none of which I was able to properly prepare for._

_ Note to self, also try and prepare for Bull's training. Expect to get bruises on my bruises. That'll be fun..._

"Sigh... Another long day..." Lucas felt the quill drop from his hand, landing with a soft thump on the journal's pages. Leaning back in his chair, Lucas contemplated tomorrow's meeting frequently, his over-active mind parsing every scenario he thought was likely to occur. Many people usually called it out as a form of over-thinking, a trait Lucas has been told had both benefits and drawbacks. All thought beyond that dropped to the wayside however, when his attention was caught by the sound of gentle footsteps walking towards him.

"I... I...uh... wow..." Lucas felt his jaw drop all the way to the floor, his limbs going numb with outright shock and awe. His eyes could not look elsewhere, mesmerized by the beauty, the majesty of what was standing before him. Leliana was standing in the hallway affixing Lucas with a look of pure passion and desire, cheeks flush with red as she felt his eyes glance over her. She had good reason to receive this for she was completely buck naked, not an inch of clothing covering her luscious body up. Add to that her body was completely soaked from neck to toe, the water creating a glistening effect in the light of the dim candle.

"No more talking, love." Leliana summed up her thoughts quickly, bridging the gap between her and her star-crossed lover so fast he had little time to react. She leaned in and planted her red lips firmly on his, pulling Lucas in for the most passionate kiss she could ever hope to accomplish, her body rubbing up against his clothes. The softness of her skin was intoxicating and Lucas used his hands to draw her in closer just to keep that feeling running through his body. '_Damn... If only they could see me now..._'

Leliana's aggressive stance caught Lucas off his feet, both of them tumbling over and falling back onto the soft bed right behind them with Leliana on top of Lucas. In the throes of passion, Leliana continued to kiss her lover, all while her hands started undressing his clothes with minimal aid from Lucas who was still numb from pleasure. Most of their clothes ended in a heap at the bottom of the bed, crumpled and creased beyond measure. Eventually she pulled his smallclothes down to reveal his throbbing hard erection, the tip of which was covered in a little white fluid.

"Hmmm... I see you're very eager to begin... But good things come to those who wait." Leliana gawped lovingly at the thick and long girth. She had only seen it about ten or so times in their relationship, seeing as there was little time for frolicking when the fate of the world hanged in the balance. Her hands coolly ran alongside the member, stroking it with a gentle touch. Her ministrations caused Lucas to scrunch his face in overwhelming pleasure, trying hard not to blow his load too quickly.

"Stop... teasing me, Leliana." He pleaded, the plea falling on deaf ears.

"Never! It's so much more fun to tease you!" Seeing Lucas' reaction emboldened the bard/spymaster, giving her conviction as she brought it closer to her mouth and started licking the tip, eventually taking in inch by inch in her mouth. Her tongue seemingly wrapped around the member like a lollypop, painting it with slick saliva and love. Each inch she took in earned Leliana a groan from Lucas, his hands grasping onto her buttocks just to fight the urge. '_Wow, I didn't realize he had this much willpower. First time we did this, it took all of ten seconds before he exploded._' Leliana stifled a chuckle as the memory came rushing back to her mind. Occasionally, Leliana would shift a tuft of her auburn red hair from her eyes to keep it from distracting her.

Leliana continued her ministrations for another minute, savouring the taste before she heard Lucas start to moan loudly, signalling his imminent release. Not wanting to miss it, she deep-throated the whole thing, feeling her lips kiss the hilt of his girth passionately. His erection pulsed within her mouth, spurting three long thick ropes of thick semen into her throat, Leliana carefully swallowing the hot mess bit by bit before removing her mouth from his still hard member. She moaned rapturously as she guzzled the fluid like it was a poultice, her cries of ecstasy keeping Lucas at that lust-filled high.

"Sorry. I couldn't hold on any longer." Lucas meekly replied, rubbing his head as he gave an apologetic look towards his lover. Even after so long, Lucas was still awkward about Leliana, which he surmised to be a selling point for the bard. She smirked as she looked back at him, giggling at his innocent nature.

"It's alright, love. Now... let's move on." Leliana flipped the both of them, with Lucas now on top of Leliana in a standard missionary position. With some guidance from her, Lucas eventually aligned the tip of his erect member with her pink pussy, before Leliana grabbed ahold of her lover's hips and pulled it closer to her, burying his entire length within her slick vaginal walls and eliciting a moan from the both of them.

"Ahhh! Still so tight, Leliana!" Lucas moaned, his face buried within her sizeable bust, girth buried to the hilt in her and unmoving.

"Hahhhh... And you're still so big, Lucas!" she moaned in kind, feeling it stretch her wide and poke her in places her fingers just couldn't reach.

"I'm going to start moving..." Lucas said, after he had time to settle down. Slowly he pulled his hips back, then slid them forward, setting a slow pace. With each thrust into Leliana, he picked up some speed and received a louder moan from his lover each time. Lucas felt like he was in cloud nine, merely ecstatic at the simple joy he was receiving. Leliana went all in for the act of lovemaking, her hands wrapping around his back and her legs crisscrossing behind him just so he could continue reaming her silly. Their hips slapped against one another, their love juices mixing and making a squishy sound that turned them on even more. After about five minutes, neither of them could bear to hold off release any longer, their organs starting to secrete their orgasmic fluids.

"I'm so close! I'm going to blow, Leliana!" He told her in between long pants and groans sprinkled in between. He took the chance to passionately press his lips against hers, the act sparking even more pangs of pleasure through both their sweat-doused bodies.

"Do it! Do it inside me, Lucas!" Leliana screamed to the high heavens, so high she was on the unbearable pleasure she was experiencing. She mewled as Lucas acquiesced to her heat-of-the-moment request, his hips slamming into hers rapidly, his throbbing hard erection hitting every sensitive spot in her wet folds.

"Aggghhh! Leliana!" Lucas groaned out loud, his own hands wrapping themselves around Leliana's bare back to hold her close. For the finale, he pulled back his hips and thrust it in with force, burying himself to the hilt within her. He felt the both of them tumble over the edge as they both released, he firing three thick and hot ropes of his potent seed into her vagina, she spraying her love juices all over their hips, making them glisten amidst the dim candlelight. Their bodies twitched with each orgasm they went through, both their mouths open as they moaned into each other's ears.

"Ahhh...! So warm! It's filling me up!" Leliana exclaimed, feeling Lucas' hot fluids rush into her womb, giving her a sense of fullness to replace what seemed like an eternal emptiness. It swirled within her, content to rest within her insides.

"Haaahh... Hahh..." Lucas collapsed gently on top of Leliana, taking short bursts of breath to recover whilst his body rested on her firm mounds, the feeling of their flesh pressing against one another intoxicating. To both their surprises, Lucas' hard erection was still going strong, still throbbing and pulsing within Leliana, eliciting a lustful giggle from the bard and a meek smile from the seer.

"Round two, Lucas?" Leliana teased, to which Lucas immediately leaned down to kiss her full on the lips, the answer clear as day. Wanting to even the scales and give equal initiative to both of them, Lucas flipped them again and put them in a cowgirl position. Leliana took the hint and started to bounce up and down on his still thick and hard erection, setting a pace similar to Lucas' earlier attempt.

"Yes! This feels so good!" she mewled in delight, her hair swishing up and down with each bounce. Her breasts also went along for the ride, Lucas' hands cradling the mounds of flesh with loving care.

"It's good for me too, Leliana! It wasn't too short last time?!" Lucas asked breathlessly, trying to time his own thrusts with her movements.

"No, it was perfect... I... Ooohh! Right there!" Leliana moaned, breath hitched when he hit a particularly sensitive sweet spot deep inside her, causing her to pause mid-sentence.

"Mmmm..." Lucas rose up and kissed Leliana on her lips, muffling her moans while his hips continued to ram into her, her slick fluids making it easier for him to slide even deeper into her. Like the previous attempt, Lucas could feel his release start to peak after seven minutes or so.

"I'm sorry! I can't last much longer!" His features scrunched up to sell the point.

"That's okay, Lucas! Do it! Cum inside me!" Leliana hurriedly set down Lucas' hands back to his side, all the while continuing to bounce up and down on his hard tool, mewling with each time she felt it part her folds and stroke all her sensitive spots.

"As you wish, darling!" Lucas yelled out uncontrollably, taking a hold of Leliana's slender hips with his bare hands and holding on tight, slamming his hips into hers one final time. Then, his tool divulged another three spurts of his seed into Leliana's insides, Lucas moaning loudly with each long spurt he made.

"Ahhh! Your warm seed is filling me up again! It's so thick and hot inside me!" Leliane rapturously announced, womb filled to bursting with her lover's strong semen. Her body twitched too, passing through her own orgasmic high before she like Lucas earlier flopped on top of her lover, panting all the while from the amazing intercourse they just had. Both their chests rose up and down with each long gasp of precious air they took, looking at one another with equal amounts love and satisfaction.

"We need... to do this more often." Lucas managed to say to her. '_I can't believe we haven't done that in a year..._' the thought crossed his mind. He was by no means a sex addict, but making love to Leliana was starting to sound like a prospect he wanted a lot more in his lifetime.

"I agree, my love... But let us rest... We have... a long day tomorrow." Leliana shuffled off Lucas and settled onto the right side of the bed, sliding closer to Lucas as they tenderly cuddled one another to a peaceful rest, a slumber that began just as the candle wax reached its end, extinguishing the flame and plunging the room and its inhabitants into darkness, with silence to accompany the pitch-black room.

The next morning dawned far too early for Lucas' liking, his body aching to stay in bed and forget even trying to see the day, Leliana snoring soundly next to him still wrapped in the blanket to cover her naked body. He had to force himself to get up, ignoring the feeling of rusty bones worming its way into his chest and extremities. He had to put an arm up near his eyes as he made his way to the cupboard, the sun's rays a piercing light that almost made him wonder if he was a vampire in disguise. Getting dressed in quick order, Lucas begrudgingly woke Leliana up, shaking her until her eyes blinked open to stare longingly at him.

"Good morning, my love." Her tone was groggy yet warm and kind with each syllable mentioned. Her eyes flickered open and shut, caught between a blurry image and vivid clarity.

"Good morning, Leliana. Pleasant dreams?" he responded, tone barely different from hers.

"The most pleasant in a long time..." she breathlessly replied, adding a wink with her right eye at the very end. Lucas chuckled, stroking his hand across her bare shoulder in a loving way as he rose from the bed and made for the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas could see Leliana stare down at her bare belly, as if tempted to touch it and be reminded of last night's festivities.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" he asked her kindly.

"No, it's okay. Tell them I'll be there shortly." She said as he swung open the door.

"Okay. See you later." Lucas replied, silently closing the door in front of him. Turning around, he almost leapt to his feet upon seeing Maxwell standing right in front of him with a funny smirk on his face, hands held behind his back like a common soldier.

"Looks like you had a fine time last night, Lucas." Maxwell grinned.

"How did you...?" Lucas looked at him aghast, head spinning left and right to check for anyone else that could be listening in.

"You look very radiant today. There's really not much left to draw on, that and Leliana's giggle is very distinguishable." Maxwell chuckled, laughing at the deep shade of red Lucas employed to hide his shame. Indeed, it was nice to see the Seer in a jubilant mood. 'Knowing Lucas so far, being happy probably doesn't come often enough for him.' Maxwell pondered as he walked with the man to the war room, where Cullen and Josephine were already discussing through the possible courses of action open to them.

"Where's Leliana?" Cullen asked Lucas, eyeing him as they both entered the war room.

"She'll be here in a few minutes." Lucas told him.

"Alright then... I guess we should start briefing you on the situation first then. Ahem... As you well know, in order to close the Breach, we need the aid of either the mages or the templars in order to amplify the marks on your hands to the point of being able to achieve our goal." Cullen rolled on, content with Lucas' explanation for the time being.

"Magister Alexius is sending us an olive branch for an alliance, offering the aid of the mages." Josephine chimed in, putting in her two cents on the table.

"I don't like the idea. According to this Dorian and Alexius' son Felix, he is rather... fixated on you, along with his Venatori friends."

"Better than the templars at Therinfall Redoubt... Any messengers we have sent have not returned." Leliana suddenly replied, all eyes in the room turning to watch her step into the room. Lucas noted that her hair was slightly messy, several strands of light red hair ruffled and not keeping with the otherwise well-kept hair she had going for her.

"Apologies for my lateness... It will not happen again." She bowed her head low, taking her place at the table, only a casual glance at Lucas as she took her place.

"I know the templars. They are knowledgeable in the arcane and they are more likely to be trusted." Cullen offered a somewhat biased opinion on the matter, a fact Maxwell picked up on. '_Shouldn't be surprised, considering his past._'

"The mages have more experience in such matters. And if it is a matter of trust, then we must show trust in them to receive trust in return, no?" Leliana defended with a stern look, arms crossed as she glared at Cullen.

"The decision is up to the two of you." Josephine cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence that had settled upon them. Maxwell instinctively set his eyes upon the Seer, merely waiting on him to deliver some prophetic message that might inform their decision. Sadly, Lucas failed to live up to that expectation next he spoke.

"You first... I need to think a little more on my plan."

"In my opinion, the mages might be more useful to us. They have more dealings with arcane matters than the templars and we know more about them than we do the templars at Therinfall." Maxwell said, after much deliberation.

"What about you, Seer?" Maxwell looked over to Lucas, who still had his head buried in thought, one hand pressed to his lip.

"Hmmm... Crazy thought, why not both?" As he said this, Lucas' hands pointed in opposite directions of each other, head rising to make eye contact with the others.

"What?" Cullen asked, eyebrow rising up high with confusion.

"It makes sense. Improve our odds at success by taking in both groups and by doing so, hopefully show both sides how to peacefully coexist. A win-win solution for all parties..." Lucas explained his thought process in great detail, looking down at the map with pointed eyes. '_Plus, that also means Corypheus will have nothing to draw on for an army besides the Wardens he already has._'

"A fair point, I admit." Leliana nodded, as did Josephine almost at the same time.

"So we split up. I'll handle the mages. Maxwell, you can handle the templars." Lucas reiterated the plan again, just to be safe.

"Splitting our forces may weaken us, divide our attention. And they will be too busy keeping each other in line to help us." Cullen protested calmly.

"It's worth the risk. Lucas is right. Why aim for one when we can nab both?" Maxwell added.

"Leliana, I'll need some backup in Redcliffe in case things go south. Is there any way we can sneak them in without suspicion?" Lucas asked as he looked down at the continent map, moving two similarly sized groups of token to both Therinfall Redoubt and Redcliffe. One comprised tokens resembling more rogue-like types while the other was made up of soldier-like ones instead.

"The servants' entrance, remember?" Leliana snapped her fingers, recalling the secret entrance Bann Teagan gave them access to in order to secure the place from the undead horde that had descended on Redcliffe.

"That'll work." Lucas nodded at the suggestion, seemingly in accordance with everyone else in the room.

"I'll send agents through to await your arrival." Leliana nodded again.

"Cullen, do you have anyone who can get us into Therinfall?" Maxwell prompted Cullen.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Cullen said, hastily bringing out a small leather-bound book and rifling through it to search for his contact.

"We'll discuss details later." Maxwell told Cullen in the midst of him talking with his aide, effectively closing the meeting early. All the members gathered started to file out of the room, save for Lucas, who quickly tapped on Maxwell's shoulder before he could walk out the door.

"A word, Maxwell?" Maxwell followed Lucas as he led them away into a nearby corner, away from most prying eyes. Maxwell noticed that Lucas looked slightly pensive and embarrassed, like he was about to spill some really uncomfortable secrets.

"I'm afraid I will be unable to help you with the templars."

"Why not?"

"The path you were meant to follow was the mages and the mages alone. The templars would vanish from Therinfall Redoubt, thus making them unavailable to recruit. There is more, but I cannot reveal it just yet." Lucas rattled off, barely pausing to breath.

"But you know about the mages' plight?" Maxwell responded.

"That's why I volunteered. Had I gone to the templars, I would be as clueless as you are now." He said bluntly.

"Doesn't this alter future events, mess with your foreknowledge?" Maxwell answered, visibly worried.

"It does, but I hope the price is worth it." He did his best to reassure him, though Maxwell's frown didn't recede for some time. Maxwell's mind rushed with painful ideas regarding the outcome this risk would have. On the one hand, fighting against this so-called enemy Lucas was adamant in combating seemed like the right thing to do. And yet even as he had watched Cullen fortify the wooden huts with steel and metal, he still had doubts niggling away at him.

"Good luck then, Lucas." Maxwell held out his hand to wish his companion luck.

"You too, Maxwell." Lucas shook Maxwell's hand vigorously before leaving, his thoughts now concerned with who he was deciding to take along for the journey. Like his own strategies when it all was a game, Lucas immediately checked off Vivienne and Solas off his list. '_Dorian will already be tagging along for the ride, so letting Maxwell get a choice would be prudent. I doubt the templars will be happy at first..._' He surmised. Of the three warriors, Cassandra was his first pick. '_Cassandra knows more about mages than Iron Bull or Blackwall._' Lastly, it was a toss-up between Varric and Sera. '_Sera's not too keen on magic. Varric seems more tolerant, so in the mix he goes..._' And that sealed the lid on his choices. Whistling a tune to keep his spirits up, Lucas merrily set off to inform both Cassandra and Varric, assuming Maxwell hadn't scooped them up first. It reminded him of American team picking rituals, something he had trouble reconciling with to this day. As the sun rose over Haven, the gears spun in motion and the wheels were set for a day none of them would forget.


End file.
